Deconstructing the General
by selmak
Summary: Maj. Gen. Hammond was irked with O'Neill when they first met. Hammond wasn't angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth is Hammond blamed the Time Traveling Four for the decisions he had to make during the last 30 years.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU. In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

WIP

* * *

He really didn't mean to hit her **_THAT_** hard. 

But when push came to shove, and the Al'Kesh was firing at the Gate, he had thrown Captain Samantha Carter through the gate first, and only then, after the last of his personnel was safe, had he had dived into the swirling blue wormhole. There was a sound of thunder, a flash of heat and he would have **_sworn_** that the blasts from the Al'kesh had come close enough to singe all the red hair off his legs.

He was built solid, some of the less kind might think he had gone to seed, but it mattered not whether his bulk was made of muscle, built from far too many hours weightlifting to pass the time at some god-forsaken Air Force Base out in the middle of Timbuktu, or fat, because when he tackled Samantha Carter, he and his substantial bulk hit her **_solid_**. The young female officer gracelessly slammed face down onto the ramp, even after he had attempted a twisting motion to avoid her, but all he did was manage to wrench one of his shoulders and hit her with the other. He rolled down the gate ramp, and he counted thirty seven stars, two moons and one planet with an assortment of rings circling his head at a dizzying velocity when at last he came to a complete stop.

Groaning, he put his face down on the floor, waiting for Sgt. Davis to get on the PA and request a medical team to the GateRoom.

**_Jesus Christ!_** Why the **_hell_** had he decided to go off-world?

His conscience, having decided that this fuckup was entirely his fault, reminded him in surround-sound.

"**_I can't send my people out there, until I experience it first-hand! Come on, Guys! Let the Ole Man play! It'll be fun!"_**

Now, he hadn't said **_THAT, _**though the very thought of going off-world had put a spring into his step that hadn't been there when this position had been an easy, coasting job to retirement.

And so SG-1, having no real choice, had smiled prettily, bitching under their breath that they had to babysit the Ole Man just so he could go through the Gate. O'Neill and Teal'c had assured him that they had picked a nice, quiet world, suitable for picnicking with family, friends and your CO. Yeah, perfect for picnicking, his General ass. Well, some people might prefer an Al'Kesh or two showing up during the middle of your picnic, but he'd never complain about ants again.

Instead of resting his head on the cold tile floor of the GateRoom, there was a hell of a lot of dirt pebbles and small rocks which he was spitting from his mouth combined with copious amounts of blood. He ran his tongue quickly over his teeth, making sure that they were all there and accounted for.

While he was a stickler for cleanliness, he'd be willing to nominate someone for a medal if they had slacked off cleaning the GateRoom **_just_** this once.

There was also a cold, stiff breeze, and Walter Davis's voice was not to be heard.

Nope, he heard the sounds of wind through the trees, and he sniffed carefully. Instead of the slightly mechanical smell of the GateRoom, he smelled that crisp, cold air that meant **_SNOW_**.

First snowfall of the season, probably, as the ground was cool, not cold and it wasn't snow-covered and soggy. Nope, the ground was moderately hard as his shoulder had found out first-hand or should he say first-shoulder?

All the clues pointed to the fact that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong and they hadn't ended up where they were supposed to, which was in Cheyenne Mountain. It was only a strong hypothesis at the moment rather than a confirmed fact, as he was afraid to open his eyes, because he knew that he was gonna hurl the minute sunlight hit his baby blues.

One screwed up shoulder, and a concussion and he had no idea how **_hurt_** SG1 was.

Damn it, he had gotten his Number One Team injured due to his stupid insistence on going off-world!

**_Ah fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_**

"Sir?" Captain Carter queried.

There was a slightest quiver in her voice, which meant she was uncertain. Whether Captain Carter was uncertain that her CO was dead and thought her career was over before it had barely begun or what, he couldn't have said.

"Captain, let me guess, we're no longer in Kansas, are we?" George Hammond questioned drolly.

"No, Sir," she agreed.

"I hope I didn't hurt you when I dove through the gate. That Al'Kesh was getting a little close to comfort. Colonel O'Neill? Doctor Jackson? Teal'c?" George called.

Quiet.

**_Ah fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_**

Captain Carter cleared her throat, and he sighed. Inwardly, as Generals never ever sighed in front of their subordinates. No, they always remained calm headed and cool, even though right now, he knew that they were in a **_hell_** of a lot of trouble.

"They're not **_here_**, are they?" George questioned. He sat up, refusing to give voice to the pain in his shoulder and after he mistakenly opened his eyes, he closed them quickly before he vomited, as everything went black and swirly on him.

"No," she answered.

"The Colonel would be mouthing off by now," George retorted. "I hope that means they got home safely, as they were in the wormhole before us. Can you dial us home, Captain?"

Again a long pause, and then George decided that he Generally needed to get his General eyes open and he better not Generally **_puke_** his General Guts up in front of Jake Carter's daughter. Generally, times like this he wished he was still a Colonel.

Or **_Retired_**.

On a nice tropical island, where he could wear Hawaiian shirts, tell tall tales about how he was nearly an astronaut and lie to his daughters about how well the book was coming along.

Silence.

"There's a problem with the DHD?" George questioned patiently, as he was all too familiar with how to pry vital information from close-mouthed Subordinates. Though this was the first time he had to do it off world with a concussion, and hopefully the last.

Good God, his ears were still ringing like he had been kicked in the face by a mule.

"Yes, Sir," the Captain whispered.

* * *

Samantha Carter 

The day hadn't started off well.

The base was still mourning the death of Major Charles Kowalsky, and then Major General George Hammond had decided that nobody was going off-world until **_he_** got a chance to go off-world.

_**I can't send my people out there, until I experience it first-hand!**_

Naturally, SG1 got the **_honor_** of escorting the General.

Samantha wasn't too comfortable about how her team was gelling, and adding the CO on a sightseeing tour was not conducive to a good merge. There was Colonel Jack O'Neill, who reminded her so strongly of her father that sometimes she had to give a double glance to confirm that it was Colonel O'Neill. Then there was Doctor Daniel Jackson, who was so hell-bent on saving his wife that he was almost too reckless in that endeavor and Teal'c, who was just your usual taciturn space alien with a snake in his gut.

Three guys, one sexless snake and **_her_**.

Even Teal'c symbiote was buddy-buddy with O'Neill. Daniel and the Colonel had a prior history and Teal'c and the Colonel shared that Male Warrior bond. She was the odd geek girl out.

Like **_always_**.

She'd have to prove herself over and over again until O'Neill either accepted her or learned to tolerate her which meant that even after the mission to Chulak, he was still busting her non-existent balls.

"Captain Carter!" O'Neill had greeted her cheerfully after the team had assembled for their morning debriefing and cup of coffee. "I have wonderful news, and then there's even **_more_** wonderful news."

"That's great, Sir!" She said cheerfully, perhaps too cheerfully as Daniel looked unexpectedly uneasy and Teal'c had that completely unreadable stoic expression on his face.

"I've just informed the rest of the happy campers that General Hammond will be joining us today on our class trip through the gate," O'Neill said cheerfully.

Her smile froze and lessened while O'Neill's smile got even bigger. **_HAMMOND?_**

Major General George Hammond.

Was going on a field trip.

With Them.

Oh **_great_**!

It wasn't that she was afraid of Hammond, but simply that she hadn't figured out her CO yet.

Hammond had no problems spanking O'Neill when the occasion demanded it, and he was always **_watching_** SG-1 as though anxiously waiting for the slightest misstep to nail their collective asses to the wall. Straight laced, straight-shooter, hardass, perfectionist, aloof, old-school were a few of the General descriptions circulating throughout the SGC about their General.

Hammond had talked to her one on one briefly, warning her that her reproductive organs could be on top of her head and waving at him, but she'd sink or swim on her **_own_** merits. He wouldn't disparage her because she was a woman, wouldn't cut her any slack because of how many stars her father had, but that being said, she better be one **_hell_** of a good officer or else he'd be on her like white on rice.

Yet, there were two pictures of his grandchildren in his office. Rumors even had it that he called them every day at the same time in the afternoon just when they had gotten home from school to find out how their day went.

"And the good news doesn't stop just yet! You're going to keep an eye on him, Captain and you'll guarantee the General doesn't get into **_any_** trouble," Colonel O'Neill explained. "You'll be his personal tour guide on his three hour cruise to the Great Out There!"

Colonel O'Neill waved his arm dramatically and gave her a smirk so reminiscent of her father that she almost instinctively called him, "Dad".

"Me, Sir?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, Carter! You get the job because you are our resident **_expert_** on dealing with two star Generals!" O'Neill explained glibly before he stormed out of the room.

She sighed in defeat, and Daniel walked over to her.

"He's not happy," Daniel explained unnecessarily.

"O'Neill is most displeased regarding babysitting "The Man"," Teal'c inserted in his deep, solemn voice. "I fail to comprehend O'Neill's comment."

"Jack is just… uncertain…about the wisdom of taking the General off world," Daniel explained, trying to defend O'Neill's lack of enthusiasm. "What was that little comment he made about you being our expert on dealing with two star Generals?"

"My father's one," Samantha explained regretfully. After all these years in the USAF, she knew better than to ever mention her dad's rank, but people **_still_** knew.

"Oh," Daniel stated quietly. "Does he know…George?"

"I haven't asked," she admitted slowly, wishing Daniel would just drop the subject.

"You haven't asked your father for any dirt on our new boss?" Daniel teased.

"My father and I don't really talk, plus… I'm pretty sure his security clearance doesn't cover…" She paused, made a face and then gestured. "All this…"

* * *

Jack O'Neill 

Jack's day had started off pretty bad. He was in George Hammond's office, and they were discussing various aspects of StarGate Command. Then George dropped the proverbial A-bomb on him.

"For your assignment today, request Teal'c give you the coordinates for a planet that is relatively uninhabited. I'll be joining SG1 today as I can't start sending people through that ring unless I've been through it. I want and **_need_** to experience Gate Travel first hand."

"Beg pardon, Sir?" Jack questioned.

"For today, SG1 will have a fifth team member, that being me."

George's blue eyes narrowed slightly and Jack knew that his reaction or more importantly, his lack of it was being measured, analyzed and quantified by his superior officer and that his lack of enthusiasm was earning him a surfeit of points in Hammond's Little Hit List.

"That'll be… **_swell_**…" Jack said, with perhaps too much smarm, as George's eyes narrowed still further and Jack could literally hear the points being added to his tally. For good measure, Jack threw in a heart-felt, "Sir!"

Ka-Ching!

_**Jackpot!**_

_**

* * *

**_Daniel Jackson

Daniel Jackson stood on the ramp, ever so glad that he wasn't Samantha Carter. The Captain was standing on the ramp next to General Hammond, and the General looked surprisingly at ease in his fatigues and his tactical vest. Up until now, Daniel had only seen the General in a suit and tie and thought of him as merely a paper-pusher. Hammond had also checked out his P-90 with the ease of someone long familiar with the deadly weapon.

The gate had opened, the kawoosh (for lack of a better word) had occurred and Samantha Carter had been busy explaining something to General Hammond, no doubt about the physics involved with the wormhole, when Hammond had interrupted her with a curt, "I've read your reports, Captain. You don't need to repeat them verbatim to me."

"No, Sir, I didn't…" Samantha apologized before Hammond shut her up.

"So, you're my babysitter?" Hammond questioned.

"Beg your pardon, sir?" Samantha looked uneasy and Daniel tried to think of something, **_anything_** to say in order to help her out.

"You know, low person on the totem pole gets to entertain the Old Man. By that I mean, you get to keep me out of trouble, while ensuring that I don't learn too much, so not to cramp O'Neill's style." Hammond said dryly.

For a wonder, Hammond turned to Jack O'Neill and gave him a challenging look.

"Now, Sir, would I do that?" Jack O'Neill questioned in a very innocent voice.

Daniel winced as Hammond's blue eyes narrowed slightly. Jack's smile faded.

**_You shouldn't have said that, Jack. He's not amused. This is going to be a long three hour cruise. The Skipper isn't happy with Gilligan and our Maryanne. Since I'm the Professor does that makes Teal'c, Thurston Howell the Third?_**

"Colonel, while this is my first trip through the Gate, it ain't my first BBQ," Hammond drawled before stepping **_first_** into the wormhole.

Jack made a futile gesture of exasperated annoyance, motioned for Teal'c to hurry up and get into the wormhole to **_protect_** the General and then he jumped in after the General. Teal'c followed quickly and that left Daniel and Samantha standing on the gateramp. He waited for Samantha, but the dejected looking Captain wasn't moving.

"What's the problem?" Daniel questioned.

"He **_must_** be friends with my father," Sam moaned.

"If he is, it can't be **_that_** bad, Sam," Daniel insisted.

"You have no idea, Daniel," she mumbled. "You have absolutely no idea."

* * *

George Hammond 

When Hammond had first seen the pictures of the supposedly deceased Daniel Jackson, he had felt someone walk over his grave. Ok, that was a lie. It felt like an entire mariachi band had tangoed over his grave and then started playing a free concert.

What was supposed to be an easy tour, an easy coast into retirement had gone completely and **_utterly_** to hell. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

**_Oh God_**, he thought, as he took out a neatly folded piece of yellow paper and stared at it

**_It's happening_**. **_You'd thought that since you were just about to retire, you weren't fated to meet those four time travelers after all, yet you had kept those dates and times with you all these years, just so you'd have them. _**

_**Just in case. **_

_**Time Travel. **_

**_Jack O'Neill is being collected even as we speak, Jake's daughter, CAPTAIN SAMANTHA CARTER is on her way here from the Pentagon. Daniel Jackson can't be dead, as I've yet to meet him. _**

_**Plus there's that fourth Time Traveler. **_

**_Whoever he is; that large black man with the golden skin, tattooed with the gold mark of Apophis on his face. I had drawn that tattoo, and then hidden the drawing, hoping to one day to find what it meant, what it represented. Imagine my surprise when I was in a museum in Egypt, and I saw the mark of the snake god._**

**_There are no Egyptians in this compound. I checked half-heartedly, thinking that I had managed to fool Fate._**

_**But I haven't.**_

When Teal'c had arrived on the ramp in the SGC along with a multitude of cast offs from Chulak, George Hammond knew then and there that he was doomed to complete the fated circle as his destiny was walking towards him.

**_I will send these people into the past and hope that they return. If they do not return, it will be no one's fault but mine. For I will wish them good luck and god speed, sending them backwards in time, and give them but two dates on a yellow sheet of paper to help them get home._**

**_A slender thing to gamble their lives upon._**

_**I pray to God that's enough. **_

George knew that he dared not to become too familiar with them in case he let something slip, but still, he wanted a chance to know this team of four disparate souls who had so profoundly affected his life thirty years ago. Throughout the years, the gang of four had always been in his mind, as the knowledge that he was working **_toward_** a specific goal affected every decision he made. He might have left the USAF years ago, except for his destiny.

"_**General Hammond. I like the sound of that."**_

He simply wanted to know…

Were they **_worth_** it?

When his wife had gotten ill with cancer, George had the picture perfect opportunity to retire, but he hadn't, acknowledging only to himself that he could not retire as his long-foreseen, cosmically destined meeting with Samantha Carter had yet to take place. She was only a young 2nd Lieutenant at the time, and George had known that he had quite a few more years ahead of him before she made Captain.

But damn it, when he was shoveling that first bit of Texas dirt onto Maggie's coffin, how he had **_reviled_** that group of four, for all that they represented and what they had done and would do, but first and foremost, for denying him a few more precious moments with his wife.

When everyone asked him why he hadn't retired after Maggie's death, he lied, and told them that he still needed a few more ending chapters in that damn book that he would never, ever be able to write. He couldn't write as he was haunted by his last vision of Maggie lying so damn still and so damn cold in their bed, no more than skin and bones, and all he had done while he wept and held her lifeless body was **_curse_** his grand, cosmically, chronologically induced destiny.

Oh God, how he **_hated_** those four unknown people for giving him just enough knowledge to twist the knife in his heart.

Maggie and he couldn't spend her last days together in peace, as the damn base was always calling him about **_something_** or another. He had just wanted her few final weeks to be perfect, without the constant reminder of what the Air Force had required of her all those many years, yet the phone rang and rang and rang.

They never **_had_** a real home, as they were always on the move, every two or three years like clockwork. She'd get comfortable and make new friends, and then he'd come home with his next great assignment which required them to move to some godforsaken place like Elmendorf Air Base in Alaska. George had taken those damn assignments because he had his grand destiny to fulfill. He **_had_** to be there when those four people met up, and he **_had_** to be their CO.

All those years, without complaint, Maggie had packed up everything and moved with him.

But his last assignment, he moved **_alone_** and he finally bought the damn house he had promised Maggie all those years ago.

And now face to face with those four souls, George realized that he **_hated_** them.

It wasn't their fault, he knew that rationally. But until he could stop seeing them as the four people that had kept him bucking toward the General's stars and to hell with his family, he couldn't defuse his anger.

The best way to get to know the Time Traveling Foursome was to see them in action, which is why when that damn gate opened and Captain Carter began rattling off assorted physics formulas about what he was seeing, he shut her up, told O'Neill he didn't appreciate being babysat and while the slightly younger man was trying unsuccessfully to deny that's what was happening, George then walked **_first_** into that great unknown.

**_Time to face that great unknown, George, that destiny that's been guiding you all these years, and maybe, just maybe Maggie will finally stop haunting you and you can remember her without that agonizing pain. _**

_**I should have retired.**_

_**To hell with destiny. **_

**_She was the anchor of my soul, she deserved better. _**

_**And these people better be worth it.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

WIP

* * *

Stepping into the icy blue wormhole, George Hammond wasn't sure what to expect. 

Yes, he had read all the reports until he could spew them off backwards, forwards and sideways. He had viewed the telemetry repeatedly while waiting for the confirmation that the team had made it safely to their destination. He had even watched transfixed as the little mechanical arm charted that seemingly improbably cosmic journey between here and there on that glass wall with all the circles that represented various planets, moons, stars and assorted heavenly bodies.

All that had been about as helpful as a virgin **_reading_** about sex.

You knew where everything was supposed to go, what you were supposed to do, what you were supposed to feel but you still had no real comprehension of **_what_** it would really be like. Instead, you held on to everything you held near and dear to your heart and hoped you'd arrive at your destination with some pride and your dignity intact.

G-Forces. Stars, suns, moons, **_SOLAR SYSTEMS_**…streaming past him. A fiery coldness seeping into his very bones, and then a jarring impact, when he realized…

**_Goddamn it, Mags! I'm on another fucking planet. In another solar system. And I should be home in time to tuck the grandkid into bed tonight and read 'em that story you always read our daughters. Maybe I could make up a new story, about an old General named George who traveled to another planet? _**

Instinctively, he scouted out his surroundings, noting with an amused awe that the almost lavender colored sky with fluffy white clouds clashed horrifically with the sea of emerald green grass in front of him, even while he hoisted his P-90 just so, and stepped off the Gate platform.

Good thing too, as he heard two thumps behind him that most likely meant Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c had arrived. If he hadn't moved, they probably would have landed right on top of him, which had happened to SG-something or other on their first journey through the Gate. The team had ended up in an untidy heap of arms, legs, assorted weapons and the MALP, all because the first person out of the gate had just stood there, pole-axed.

Fortunately it had only been Davis and him in the control room watching. Davis had been wise enough to not burst into laughter in front of the General although George did see a small smirk on the man's face especially when the Marines began cursing … well… like a bunch of Navy men. Meanwhile, George had stood there shaking his head wondering if he should put out a memo to the SG team leaders reminding them to keep the ramp clear upon arrival to prevent pileups like that from occurring again. He had decided against it, as nobody would take the note seriously until their team had done the same stupid thing, and then Davis had volunteered to 'accidentally' damaged the tape with all the telemetry on it.

Good man, Davis. They had worked together for years, back when George was a Brigadier General and Maggie had first gotten sick. When his retirement assignment had unexpectedly turned into a major mess, he had requested that they track down Walt Davis and get him into the program as he was solid and reliable.

"**_Sir_**," O'Neill bellyached.

Hammond heard O'Neill's unspoken whine.

**_You're the General, damn it, you don't go off-world FIRST! What if there had been hostiles? What if Apophis himself was standing there to greet you with a hello and a hearty handshake?_**

"If I waited for you to go first, we'd still be in the GateRoom," George explained, nipping O'Neill's bellyache in mid-bud. "Then something mysteriously would go **_completely_** to hell and I wouldn't be able to take this little trip."

Hammond turned to face the younger man, and for good measure, he included Teal'c in his best dress down stare. Two more louds thumps and then both Captain Carter and Doctor Jackson were standing next to them.

"You're not happy that you're babysitting me. Fine, I can read your body language loud and clear and as your commanding officer, I want to remind you that you have exactly two options available to you this trip. My suggestion is option number one which is 'deal with it, and **_smile'_**," Hammond stated in his no-nonsense style.

He turned away from the team.

"I'd like to know what the other option is," O'Neill said quietly.

**_Jesus Christ! A fucking smart ass!_**

He had squandered his precious time with Maggie, wasting their limited time together by focusing on all those damn classes, degrees, courses and assignments in order to **_ensure_** that he made General, and it was for a Goddamn **_SMART ASS_**.

**_Oh, God Damn it, Mags. I should have given the date and times to Samantha Carter when I had met her at Christmas time, 1969, and told her to deal with it. I'd do anything to have just a few more minutes with you, when you were pain free and happy…. _**

George wasn't going to give Jack O'Neill the satisfaction of an answer, but unexpectedly, he experienced a flashback. Maggie was puking her guts up from a bad round of chemo. She had tried to push him away, determined to be independent to the very end, but George remembered how it had been necessary for him to physically support her while she retched and heaved.

I'll beat this, George, the love of his life had vowed.

We'll beat this **_together_**, he had retorted fiercely. It was one of the few times that they had lied to each other, because he knew, she knew, **_they both knew _**that it was **_only_** a matter of time.

She had died only a few short weeks later.

"Suck it up and **_deal_**," Hammond retorted, letting his annoyance and exasperation and yes… his **_guilt_** color his tone a very dark shade of bitter.

_**Bitter, party of one!**_

Hammond started walking for a few moments, and then he stopped.

"Are you waiting for Godot, Colonel? Because we've got a mission to complete," George snapped.

* * *

Jack O'Neill. 

His quips were really pissing off the Ole Man, but that meant nothing to Jack. He had lost his fear of "The Man" a long, long time ago, and truly he delighted in inflicting his biting, sardonic wit on those he deemed worthy. And George S. Hammond was perhaps the most creditable adversary he had faced in **_years_**.

Just to piss the Ole Man off, he bent over and started to untie his boot laces. He knew Hammond was glaring at him, but to Jack's delight, Hammond didn't so much as utter a sigh.

**_ He's good_**, Jack thought. _**He's very, very good. He'll be a challenge to break in.**_

"I've got a pebble in my boot. I'll have to take it off," he exclaimed loudly.

"Jack," Daniel hissed.

"Daniel," Jack said in the very same tone.

"Jaaaaack…." Daniel repeated intently. "Do you **_have_** to?"

"I have a pebble in my boot. Yes, I have to undo my boot," Jack stated cheerfully. "Else I get a blister and then I'll **_limp_**…"

"No…" was the terse rejoinder. "Do you have to **_provoke_** him? I have the feeling that he's got a pretty bad temper."

"Red heads do," Jack retorted. "Though I'm not completely sure that he's got enough hair left to be considered a red head."

He paused for a moment, stared at the back of Hammond's head, debated the thin fringe of auburn hair even as the General was conversing with Teal'c, blatantly ignoring Jack, and then Jack nodded his head in approval.

"I'm feeling pretty charitable today, so yes, he's a red head."

"Something is obviously bothering him…" Daniel protested.

"Me," Jack said helpfully, and truthfully with a touch of pride, as nobody, **_NOBODY_**, pissed off people as well as he did. "I have that affect on people. I don't know what it is…"

"No… **_US_**…. There's something about … **_US_**… that's bothering him," Daniel again objected, knowing that it was futile, yet still he tried.

"I don't know why you feel that way," Jack retorted. "I think you've very likable. Carter is quite the charmer, and well… Teal'c…. Teal'c's a laugh a minute!"

"Jack," Daniel said plaintively.

"Teal'c's a regular riot when he starts telling his X-rated Jaffa Jokes!"

* * *

Jack O'Neill 

After a few hours of exploring, the trekking mainly done over tough terrain just so the Old Man would have to embarrassingly beg off before physically collapsing, Jack O'Neill called a rest. Hammond had managed to keep up with the rest of the kids with nary a complaint.

With nary a word too, Jack noticed. After a while, even he had to admit that Hammond's reticence was rather… nerve wracking? O'Neill had made his usual mocking observations about flowers, fauna, relics and assorted foul odors and Hammond had said not a word. The Old Man hadn't grimaced either, instead the General had merely watched and observed.

_**Damn it, most Generals would be weeping by now! Pleading to return back to their offices! **_

"Teal'c, you and I watch the perimeter," Jack instructed.

Hammond was sitting on a dead tree trunk, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment of Jack's decision, but Jack noticed that the General's concentration was focused on his left hand. He was playing with his wedding ring, and Jack tried to remember what he knew about the Old Man.

Jack's contacts in high places had reported that Hammond was well-regarded by both the upper echelon and by his subordinates. He was viewed as a caring commander who often went that extra mile for those he commanded, not always through completely legitimate means. Jack's informants had whispered that Hammond would have been head enchilada in the Air Force by now except for some personal reason he had refused the position that would have all but guaranteed it. You can't really refuse an assignment and still have a career in the Armed Forces, Jack knew, but somehow, George had done it, which spoke volumes about what his superiors had thought of him. Instead, he had taken another less-prestigious assignment and then he had taken this one as his final tour of duty before retirement.

He had been in 'Nam, the Gulf War, assorted hundred other places, yet he had been content in the twilight of his career to merely oversee a piece of alien technology and keep it safe.

A petitioning off position, an easy, coasting job to retirement, a reward for services rendered, yet… it was not to be.

Someone new to the base might think that George Hammond was an aloof commander, but that emotional remoteness, that by the bookness was new, according to Jack's rather _excellent_ sources. And that aloofness was primarily directed toward SG1, which meant that for some reason, George Hammond had a Major General bug up his ass in reference to Sg1.

Which meant Daniel was right **_again_**, and that was always guaranteed to make Jack pissy as he hated when DannyBoy said, "I told you so!"

While Jack was circling the camp, he kept an eye out for hostiles and the other eye out on the enigma known as George Hammond.

* * *

George Hammond 

"So tell me, why did you join the Air Force?" Daniel Jackson asked Captain Carter.

The two of them were sitting next to each other on a log. The duo was eating their lunch, drinking water and appearing like a well-oiled machine due to an easy familiarity between the two of them. George decided to stop staring at his wedding ring, and listen to Samantha Carter's explanation. Maybe, just maybe, he'd learn something and jolt him out of his bad mood.

He **_didn't_** blame them for Maggie's death.

It wasn't their fault, but it had only been slightly more than three years since Maggie died when Jack O'Neill had reentered his life. George was still mourning his loss; he knew and accepted that Maggie was dead, yet his hand nevertheless reached toward Maggie's sleeping form in those quiet moments in the morning when he wasn't quite completely awake. For thirty odd years, for as long as they had been together, he had **_always_** kissed Maggie good morning.

But every morning when George fully woke, he realized anew that Maggie was gone, and the two stars on his shirt were cold comfort indeed.

Re-meeting Jack O'Neill had been a disappointment.

For almost thirty years, George had wondered about **_that_** team. Perhaps he had placed them on a pedestal that they hadn't deserved and they hadn't earned. He had often wondered about the older George, as he slowly and surely turned into that other man, full of life experiences that the younger, and rather naïve George never could have comprehended back when he was a Lieutenant. Had he sent that piece of paper back to him, acknowledging and accepting the bitter fact that the burden, that awesome responsibility of getting these people back to their right time, hadn't been worth the cost?

These people were under his command, which meant he had obligations to them, responsibilities that he alone could fulfill.

He had to bite back a bitter laugh when he realized how ironically **_true_** that last statement was.

But oh, how it would have been easier if Jack wasn't Jack! The Colonel was flippant, sarcastic and obviously insubordinate. O'Neill had lied on his official report, claiming that he had unleashed a nuclear bomb on Abydos that had killed the space alien Ra.

Jack hadn't, and that simple act of defiance, of deliberate, mindful disobedience, had escalated into an intergalactic mess of epic proportions.

Even though George attempted valiantly, he didn't particularly care for any of the gang of four. While he couldn't begrudge them for the burden, as he had given it, and accepted it willingly, it would have been a little easier if he actually **_liked_** them.

He tried, really he _**had**_, butO'Neill was so damn defiant.

Carter was defensive and he wondered what had happened during her career to that shy, sweet girl that he once known that had turned her so damn defensive about her gender. She was so much like old man father in some ways, smart, resilient and courageous were some of the raves that had been written about her in previous performance evaluations. Yes, Carter was unlike her father in some ways as she didn't have his biting sense of humor.

Jackson's head was in the clouds except when he was feverishly focusing on any possible way on saving his wife and the boy known as Skaara.

And Teal'c… Teal'c was too goddamn dangerous for George to feel comfortable. Yet, he had been the one to fight tooth and nail to get Teal'c assigned permanently to the SGC. Hammond had called in favors owed and wheeled and dealed until he had gotten the president's ear where he bluntly told the **_PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES_**, that he **_HAD_** to have the alien on his team and by God, the **_PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES_** had better give him Teal'c.

**_Shiiit_**.

Ordering the President of the United States around was usually a one way ticket home, but fortunately the President had just laughed.

First impressions were often the wrong ones, as were the second, third and fourth ones. Perhaps if he actually **_knew_** them, figured out what made at least one of the group tick, he'd feel more at ease with them.

To hide his interest in Samantha's answer, he took a long swallow from his canteen, and closed his eyes. Let them think the Old Man was recovering from his fifteen mile hike over uneven terrain. He actually was pretty tuckered out, but he had refused to let Jack O'Neill know it when they were trotting through the woods. Jack was obviously trying to kill the Old Man by the old standby **_DEATH BY MARCHING_**, thus proving to one and to all that Major General George Hammond should have stayed behind his damn desk with his ass in his chair and the fuck out of the field.

It was a matter of pride that kept him on his feet.

But oh God, how he'd **_hurt_** tomorrow!

Pride goeth before a fall, or in his case, Pride goeth before several blisters and a back ache.

But like hell would George Hammond, USAF Major General, even think of uttering a complaint.

"Come on, tell me," Daniel repeated. "You must have a good reason for joining the Air Force."

Samantha laughed, and she actually blushed.

"Don't laugh," she blurted. "You have to promise me that you won't laugh."

"I swear," Daniel Jackson laughingly agreed. "Scout's honor!"

He gestured with his hands, trying to make a scouting gesture, but all that wasted energy and arms flailing about like mad just proved to George Hammond was Daniel Jackson had never been a boy scout.

"For Christmas one year," Samantha admitted slowly. "I really, really wanted…. A Matt Mason astronaut figure."

"Matt Mason?" Daniel questioned.

"With the jet pack!" exclaimed Samantha with excitement. "You've got to have the jet pack!"

George tried not to show his surprise, but he couldn't help but think about Christmas 1969.

"_You're feeling up to this?" George asked Maggie in real concern._

_Maggie was roundly pregnant, and she was far more short-tempered than her norm. She slapped at George's hands. He grimaced and sighed._

"_Yes," Maggie sighed. "I'm **only** pregnant, George. Stop coddling me!"_

"_You're due in two weeks, Mags. The weather looks really bad, are you sure?" George questioned again. "I wish we were still in Colorado."_

"_George, we're in Alaska, the weather is always bad here," Maggie protested. "Look, we're new to the base, and Viviane was kind enough to invite us to her place for Christmas dinner, since we have nobody else to share it with. That's right neighborly of them, George. She just called and wanted to make sure that we were still coming over because of the weather forecast. We can spend the night there without a problem, and in fact, she's planning on it."_

"_I don't know anyone on the base with the name of Kotter," George admitted slowly. "You've got no idea what rank her husband holds?"_

_The two of them had ended up in the middle of nowhere after the "Soviet Spy" incident at Cheyenne Mountain. After Major Thorton's head rolled, George had seen the writing on the wall, and had grabbed the first available transfer out of the base; little realizing that he'd end up in **Alaska**. _

_**In December.**_

_**Two days before Christmas.**_

_With a wife that was due January 8, 1970 with their first child._

_They had waited to have their first child until after he had finished his numerous tours in 'Nam. George had vowed that he'd never make Maggie a pregnant war widow, and yet when the time came, he had been… nervous…ok... darn right fearful... when Maggie got pregnant when he had been stateside in good old Colorado Springs. Then… then four time travelers had shot his career path to kingdom come, and he had to make his **EXCEEDINGLY **pregnant wife **MOVE **to **ALASKA**._

_Maggie had been in the PX trying to obtain something special for their meager Christmas dinner when this… Viviane Kotter… had struck up a conversation with her and then invited the two of them to Christmas dinner. Maggie had accepted gratefully, but George was a little leery. It would be just his luck to have Christmas dinner with a Colonel._

_Now they were spending the night at the Kotter's, which on one hand was a good thing as it was supposed to snow like a bitch, and he didn't want to risk getting into an accident, not while Maggie was carrying that all too precious cargo. One of the Msgts had been predicting a blizzard because of the way his knee ached. He still should put his foot down and say, no, the weather was promising to be bad, and they could have their own Christmas dinner at home without fear of fraternizing with a General._

_Yet, Maggie had been so delighted that she had made a friend so quickly in this god foresaken Alaskan air base, that he HAD to agree with her plans. She had hated Colorado those last few months, what with the so-called confidential news about missing Soviet Spies being on every ones' lips. What with him being on the trucks that had been commandeered by the alleged Soviet Spies, Mags had been treated like shit by the other officers' wives. _

_That good ole guilt by association._

_Mags hadn't told him why she stopped hanging around with the other officers' wives, just claiming that she was too exhausted because of her pregnancy to be bothered with them. Yet, George had noticed that none of her former friends were visiting her nor calling her, so he had carefully questioned her until she had told him the truth. _

_That was the first time he realized the full weight of his secret. _

_It was one thing when it affected his career temporarily, as after all, he was supposed to make General sooner or later, but when his secret caused his wife pain… _

_He had apologized to her then and there, begging for her forgiveness because of the hell he had unintentionally put her through and she had wept, claiming that he didn't need to ask for her forgiveness. One thing led to another, and afterwards when they were in bed, blissful in the afterglow, while she was resting her head on his chest, and he was rubbing her belly with his hand, he told her part of the truth, that they had been American military personnel who needed to get back to their base.._

_Maggie had sighed deeply when he told her that news, and he could feel how much stress she had been under because of him and what he had supposedly done in the lost of four Soviet spies, and then and there he had vowed to do whatever he could to make her happy. _

_But damn it, couldn't she have found out Kotter's rank?_

"_No," Maggie protested. "She's about my age; they have two kids, Mark and Sam. I thought it would be rude to ask what her husband's rank was before accepting. Now you've got the presents for their kids?"_

_Maggie had insisted that he get presents for the Kotter kids and he had nearly brawled in the toy store on Christmas Eve trying to get suitable gifts in the store. Someone had almost tried to rip one of the toys out of his hand, but George had just glared at him, as though daring the man to just push him just a little too far just so he could snap. He had gotten the toys, though George had disagreed with her largesse as money was quite tight for the two… and a half of them. _

"_Yes, Maggie. I managed to get a Matt Mason with the jet pack for Sam and a couple Hot Wheel cars for Mark. You know we don't have a lot of money, Mags. We should be spending money on our own child," George protested softly._

"_Christmas is for children, George. Next year, we'll spoil our little one rotten, and maybe next year… we can go back to Texas for the holiday. I'd like to see my folks," Maggie admitted softly. "You and your dad... I'm sure he'd love to see you again."_

_George's face lowered and he stared at her belly while gently caressing it, and Maggie touched his face gently with her hand._

"_You'll be a great father to our baby. Stop worrying about it," she assured him._

"_Hope you're right. I worry about that," George admitted._

"_I'm not worried at all," his wife assured him. "You worry far too much, George. You'll be gray before you're bald."_

_They hugged and kissed for a bit and then Maggie laughed._

"_Oh, just so you know, Jake's the same rank you are," she said with a smirk. "I just loved how you were stressing out over the possibility of having Christmas dinner with the **General's** family."_

_He bit back a curse, annoyed with her duplicity then he had laughed hard as she had such a look of hurt innocence on her face, and then Maggie laughed too._

"_I love you, George," she whispered. "Even if you take everything **so** seriously."_

"_I love you too, Maggie," he said softly. "One of these days, I'll get you that big house you've always wanted. We'll be in one place, and we can put roots down. Until then, I'll do what I can to make you happy…"_

"_George… I knew what I was getting into when I married you," Maggie reminded him. "As long as I have you, I'll be happy. For ever amount of time God gives me with you, I'll be happy."_

"_Don't you say stuff like that, Mags," he warned her. "Don't go tempting faith. If anything happens to you, I don't think I could handle it. You're the reason…."_

_God, he **loved** his father, but he sure as hell didn't approve of the shit his father had put his mother and him through during his early growing up time. But Joshua J. Hammond had dried out and found God, and he was trying to make amends for all the wrongs he had done, and so Maggie had insisted that he meet his father half-way. Joshua had been a good man, before he had gotten crippled in that car accident, and had turned to the bottle for solace. And he was a good man again now that he was dried out and preaching in a small Texas town, but… George couldn't help but look at his father and worry that he'd fail his own wife and children when they needed him most. _

"_You're **not** your father," Maggie reminded him. "I would never have married Josh. Now remember if anything ever does happen to me…"_

"_Don't you say that girl," George interrupted._

"_There you go, worrying too much. There are times when you seem to have the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. George what will be will be…no amount of worrying is going to change my fate…or your fate…or our unborn child's fate…or the fate of the universe for that matter. Que sera, sera...Whatever will be, will be, The future's not ours to see._.."

_ "I hate that song," George protested. _

_Maggie put one hand over his mouth, and shhhh'd him. _

_"Just have faith in our love and everything will be ok. And all you need to know is that I happy because of the time I was with you," his wife assured him. "Even if fate landed us in fucking Alaska in DECEMBER."_

"So the reason why you joined the Air Force was because of a Matt Mason figurine with the jet pack?" Daniel asked in a strangled voice.

"Yes," Samantha remembered happily, "Plus I got the space travel pack which included the space sled with the control handle; the jet propulsion pack and the chemical decontamination gun. I was so _**happy **_that Christmas!"

Daniel snickered.

Samantha paused, her blues eyes narrowed and then she playfully struck at Daniel. The archeologist managed to avoid getting thwacked for his jest, but just barely.

"You're **_laughing_**!"

"Well, Sam, you have got to admit that it's pretty funny that you got a doctorate in astrophysicists because of a piece of plastic!"

"Oh yeah, and I'm supposed to not realize that you dressed like King Tut for Halloween for years and years and years," Samantha protested.

"I only did it once! When I was in college!" Daniel retorted. "And I was exceedingly drunk at the time! But you based your entire educational career on a figurine made of **_plastic_**!"

_A tall blonde woman opened the door, and she smiled when she saw George and Maggie._

"_Hello, you must be George. I'm Viviane Carter, and my husband's Jacob. He's a little busy at the moment, but he'll be downstairs shortly," Viviane said before gesturing the two of them to come inside the small yellow house located a few miles off the base._

"_We brought gifts for Mark and Sam," George said quickly while Maggie was again thanking Viviane for inviting them to dinner. _

"_That's so sweet," Viviane exclaimed. "Let me take the gifts and you two can take off your coats."_

_They made small talk for a bit while George helped Maggie out of her coat. Viviane was putting the gifts underneath the tree, so George took the time to quietly hiss, "KOTTER?" into her ear._

"_If you ever want to get lucky again, George Hammond, you will drop this subject immediately," Maggie retorted quickly en sotto voce. _

"_But I want to unwrap my Christmas Present," George leered. _

_Viv returned quickly so George began acting like an officer and a gentleman again. _

"_You can put your coats in the closet," Viviane said easily._

_Unexpectedly there was a loud scream and then a crying jag complete with loud sobbing and pitiful wails, Viviane's smile faltered slightly but then came back quickly._

"_SAMMY!" roared a male voice._

"_Don't wanna wear a dressssssss!" shrieked a little girl. "Can't make me!"_

"_YOU'RE WEARING IT, YOUNG LADY!" the male voice roared. "AND **THAT'S** FINAL!"_

_There was another shriek, more crying and then a pitiful wail. _

_Viviane looked embarrassed and Maggie pinched George as he was about to smirk. _

"_Samantha's… a little upset, as her grandmother sent her a dress for Christmas, and we're making her wear it. She's a bit of a tom boy," Viviane explained. "Don't worry, she's actually quite shy, and she probably won't say three words to you the entire meal."_

"_Samantha?" George rumbled. "She's a girl?"_

"_Yes. Last time I looked Samantha Carter was a girl, much to my husband's disappointment! He was thinking that he was going to have a house full of boys!" Viviane explained with a laugh. "She prefers Sam, thanks to her father calling her Sammy. I only sometimes call her Sam."_

_**SAMANTHA CARTER?**_

_Shit. He nearly choked when he heard that name and he clutched onto Maggie's hand **hard**. He wasn't expecting to meet Captain Samantha Carter quite so soon again._

"_Is there a problem, George? You look like you're ill?" Viviane's voice conveyed her concern._

"_I'm fine, Ma'am," George answered automatically. _

_**CAPTAIN SAMANTHA CARTER? **No, he couldn't be meeting her again so soon. It was statistically improbable!_

_If she had bright blue eyes and blonde hair, he'd know then that he was in the Twilight Zone._

"_Well… we bought Sam…. **Samantha**… a Matt Mason action figure," Maggie explained. "With the jet pack, and we got Mark a couple Hot Wheel cars… We better take that gift back then…she won't want that then…"_

"_Matt Mason and the jet pack? No, trust me… Jake went all over looking for that figure, because that's all Samantha wanted for Christmas. We couldn't find it. She was so heartbroken that Santa couldn't get it to her, plus combined with the dress…"_

_Viviane laughed quietly._

"_It's been a traumatic Christmas for the poor girl."_

_Mark Carter bounded down the steps. The boy was almost six years old and he was **extremely** chatty. George found himself answering a lot of questions from the young boy. Yes. He had flown in 'Nam. Yes. He had red hair. Yes, he was from Texas. Yes, he could ride a horse and rope a steer. Yup. He had a pair of cowboy boots and had a cowboy hat too. _

_That was the day that he met Jake Carter. Similar in ages, life experiences and education, they became fast, lifelong friends. It was also the second time he met Samantha Carter. The teary prisoner was escorted downstairs by her fuming father who looked mortified when he realized that the company was unexpectedly early._

"_Sammy was a little upset about the dress, Viv," Jake stated quietly. "I hope you didn't hear it."_

"_No, we didn't hear anything," Maggie inserted quickly while pinching George, which meant that he had to chime in an agreement. _

_Samantha's long blonde hair was curled and in ribbons and she wore a Christmassy velvet dress with the big lace collar and the lace cuffs on her sleeves. Her bright blue eyes were tear-stained and she was still sniffling when she met George and Maggie. She was only a little thing and he was a lot taller than her, so she hid behind her father's leg and stared up at him. George crouched down to her and said a hello to her._

"_Sammy, answer him," her father insisted._

"_She's shy, that's ok, she doesn't have to say hello to me," George assured Jake. "My wife and I got a Christmas present for you and your brother. Would you like to open it?"_

_A scared nod of her head, and Jake sighed._

"_She's not normally like this," Jake explained. _

"_That's ok," George repeated his assurance. "I understand."_

_Mark was thrilled with his hot wheels, but Samantha… Samantha was over the moon with her Matt Mason figurine. Her little face lit up in delight when she saw what was underneath the garish Christmas wrapping. Within seconds, she had the doll cradled tightly in her arms._

"_Sammy, what do you say?" Her father prompted._

_Samantha had a death grip on her Matt Mason figurine and she was clutching tightly to her dad's leg. She had her face hidden behind his leg, and she shook her head quickly._

"_Sammy, you're being rude," her father warned._

"_That's ok, she's just being shy." George insisted again. _

_He crouched down to her level again and he began speaking to Jacob's leg that wasn't being clutched by a scared, shy little girl._

"_I hope you like Matt Mason, Samantha. Maybe after dinner you and I could play with him," he said to Jacob's knee. "Do you have the moon station?" _

_Samantha nodded her head once, and then George stood up. He winked at Maggie, who was giving him an amused smile. _

"_You'll be a great daddy," she mouthed, and George prayed that she'd be right._

"I had the moon station," Samantha explained. "That Christmas my father, a friend of his and I played with my Matt Mason dolls under the dining room table. My dog kept trying to eat Callisto, the space alien…"

Daniel Jackson made a murmuring comment which George didn't hear.

"What? No snarky comments about grown men playing with a vinyl moonscape and some rubber dolls underneath the Dining Room Table?" Samantha questioned. "My mom took a couple pictures that I still have. I'll have to show them to you."

"No," Daniel admitted that softly and a tad regretfully, George thought. "I really didn't enjoy Christmas when I was a kid after my parents died, so…sometimes, I thought about it when Shau'ri and I were discussing having kids. You know, have a couple kids…"

Jackson paused, and George…well, he really **_felt_** for the poor kid. He knew Daniel had fought to get assigned to the SGC permanently in order to rescue his wife. The young archeologist's fervor had increased exponentially after Kawalski's death, but George still wasn't certain about the kid. Was Daniel too much of a zealot? Was he so focused on his one goal that it excluded everything else? If push came to shove, what would happen if Daniel was forced in a decision that would adversely affect his wife verses saving the lives of his teammates?

"We'll get her back, Daniel," Samantha vowed. "And we'll get that Goa'uld out of her."

"I was looking forward to growing old with her," Daniel admitted.

"And you will," the woman next to him assured him. "You will."

_Maggie took his hand, and squeezed it. They were sitting at the kitchen table, and Maggie was wearing one of his old sweatshirts, the bulky material hiding her thin frame. _

"_George, we need to talk," Maggie said shakily. She shakily put her finger on his lips to shush him. "I heard from the doctor."_

_He shook his head, wanting to deny what she was about to say._

"_It's what we thought it might be," she said. "And…it's not… good. The prognosis… is poor."_

_He put his arms around her, and pulled her shaking body against his._

"_They say I don't have a lot of time, George," Maggie admitted softly._

_She broke down into heart wrenching tears, the sobs shaking her body so hard, that all he could do was hold her tight and vow never to let her go._

"_I'm so glad I got to see our daughters married, and two of our grandchildren born…Our son-in-laws, they're like my own flesh and blood. I love them, though I was worried that they got married so young... but I'm glad they did... so I could meet them..."_

"_Don't talk like this," George rumbled._

"_The best thing was, I got to pin that star on your collar," she whispered. "I knew that you'd make General…I knew that you'd make something of yourself, George."_

"_Maggie, I promised you a big house," he protested. "I…"_

_He had broken down into tears then, unwilling, unable to wrap his mind around the concept of living a life without her being the center.  
_

_She had fought the good fight for so hard, for so long with all the grace, courage and strength she possessed. For her, cancer was a war, and since she was a General's wife, she faced it head on with a hell of a lot of dignity. She had insisted on going to his barber and getting her head shorn before the chemo robbed her of her thick, long, dark hair._

_Even then she had been such a firebrand._

"_I like the job you do on my husband's hair," she had commented to the barber. "So, give me a whitewall. It's all coming off."_

_So much had happened in those short months they had left together. The Air Force had wanted to promote him so to move him to another assignment, a more prestigious one, with room to advancement to possibly being the top banana but he had pleaded his case to give him few more months at the current assignment, so Maggie wouldn't have to live through yet another move. _

"I drove her crazy some days," Daniel explained. "In Abydos, they have a rather strict concept of what is a female role and what is a male role, and I'd help her out, and she couldn't understand why her husband wanted to do women's work. She used to yell at me, but in private, because Abydos women aren't supposed to squawk at their husbands, they're supposed to cheerily submit."

"Sounds like a delightful place," Carter quipped dryly.

"She's my wife; I didn't want her lugging heavy containers of water. I could do that," Daniel protested. "But she always insisted that I was overprotective. I kept telling her that I was her husband, and that was my job."

_Maggie was giving him the evil eye. He was sitting next to her bedside and the young nurse was having problems locating one of Maggie's fragile veins to insert the IV catheter. The girl prodded Maggie's hand for a bit, searching for an all too illusive vein. The nurse found one, bit her lip, went for the gold and missed completely as the vein rolled and then collapsed under her needle, causing Maggie to grip onto his hand **hard**. _

_He growled, the nurse looked nervously at his pair of single stars on his shoulders and then Maggie sighed._

"_Can you get someone else to try the next IV," George requested… ok… **ORDERED** as he was using his best Brigadier General voice. "Someone... with some... **SKILL**...?"  
_

"_Dearie?" Maggie whispered to the young nurse. "Just ignore him. He's really a big, soft, teddy bear, but sometimes he's a little overprotective. He worries too much about me."_

_The nurse looked at George, and her expression plainly said, "TEDDY BEAR? HIM? He's a cranky grizzly bear that someone just disturbed in the middle of his winter's nap!"_

"_He is one," Maggie insisted. "He's just really worried about me."_

"_I'll go find Lt. Colonel Houlihan. She's got more practice with tough sticks," the young nurse babbled before racing for the door._

_The door had barely closed behind her light speed retreat when Maggie hit him in the shoulder. It was nowhere as hard a blow as she used to land on him, but he pretended that it was. He winced and rubbed his shoulder then mumbled about needing to see a bone doctor. _

"_George! That's the fifth nurse you've intimidated! Will you **stop** it?" Maggie protested._

"_She hurt you, Mags. There's no reason why she should have even attempted an IV if she couldn't get it," he protested._

"_George, don't you have a meeting?" Maggie exclaimed. "Don't you have someone else you should be generally harassing and generalizing frightening to death, rather than that poor nurse?"_

"_I don't have a meeting now," he protested._

"_It's three in the afternoon on the first Monday of the month; you always have a staff meeting now!" Maggie protested in vain._

"_Nope, no meeting," he assured her. _

_Her eyes narrowed in disbelief as she knew his schedule entirely too well.  
_

"_George, are you playing **hooky**?" _

"_Nope," he repeated his denial. _

_The day after she told him that she was ill, he had marched into his office, pulled his Executive Officer and his secretary in after him. In blunt terms, he told the two of them the news, gave them a schedule of Maggie's chemo sessions and then gave them an ultimatum. _

_They were to rearrange his schedule so that he'd make every damn doctor's appointment and make every chemo session Maggie had scheduled. The days after Maggie's chemo treatment, he'd be in at 11am, and not a moment before.There would be no early meetings, there would be no late meetings and he expected to be out the damn door by 4:00 pm every goddamn day unless Armageddon had occurred. In that case only, would he stay until 5:30pm. _

George rubbed his eyes, realizing that he was a hundred thousand light years away and three years in the past, and that daydreaming on a strange planet was a damn good way of getting killed. He opened his eyes, stood up and walked around the camp for a bit to prevent the kinks in his legs from turning into spasms.

They were only a half mile or so from the Gate, but Colonel O'Neill, after running his Commanding Office into the ground, had magnanimously decided to let them break for lunch prior to returning back to Earth.

You know, take the General on a nice twenty mile jog, nearly kill him in the process and then let him have lunch in the open air before he gratefully returns to the safety and sanctity of his office, vowing never to step off world again.

There was an odd sound in the air, and he moved into the tree line so to hide. Taking out his binoculars, he confirmed that it was a really big fucking spacecraft.

Shit! Shit! **_SHIT! _**

He clicked on the radio.

"O'Neill. We got company," he stated shortly.

"Just noticed that we've got ants at our picnic, General," O'Neill drawled. "Looks to be heading in the opposite direction, so let's pack up, and start moving toward the Gate."

* * *

Jack O'Neill 

Shit! That was a mighty big spacecraft overhead. Jack tapped Teal'c on his shoulder and pointed skyward.

"I thought you said that this planet was off the beaten track," Jack hissed. "I've got my GENERAL **_PICNICKING_** on this planet!"

"It is," Teal'c replied.

"And there's another one!" Jack snapped.

They watched anxiously for a bit, and then the two ships started shooting at each other.

"Think they landed ground troops, T?" Jack questioned.

"It is doubtful," Teal'c answered.

"Carter," Jack clicked on his radio. "Keep an eye on Hammond, and you three get to the Gate. As soon as you get there, dial home. Make sure you're not followed."

* * *

George Hammond 

Amazingly enough, George found that he still had enough endurance in his old body to put on a creditable burst of speed to the Gate. Nothing like a big firefight over your head to get your body motivated to run as fast as possible George had found through the years. Carter and Jackson were keeping up with him, or more likely, they were keeping their pace close to his, so he wasn't left behind.

The five of them had just gotten to the gate and Carter was punching the coordinates to go home, when his sixth sense flared. He turned around, saw a few hundred Jaffa and he began squeezing rounds off his P-90. He managed to shoot a few of them before they began firing.

"Jaffa!" He yelled.

The ka-woosh of the wormhole sounded, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Jackson jump into the wormhole. Teal'c soon followed Jackson, O'Neill was shooting off rounds and Carter was running up the steps. One of the Jaffas got a lucky shot in, and managed to hit the step she was standing on. The young woman fell to her knees and since George was closest, he ran toward her, grabbed her by her belt and pulled her upwards even while O'Neill was screaming at him to jump into the Gate.

Like **_hell_** he'd leave Jacob Carter's daughter behind.

There was a loud hum, and there was a smaller space ship hovering over his head. They were aiming their weapons toward the Gate, so Jack jumped into the shimmering void. George half-threw, half-pushed the stumbling Samantha Carter through the gate before leaping in afterwards.

* * *

Daniel Jackson 

Daniel Jackson landed with a mighty thwack face down on the ramp. Teal'c soon landed on top of him and then Jack O'Neill was on top of the pile, cursing up a storm. Behind him, the gate made a hiccupping, belching noise akin to having one too many margaritas on the All you eat Fajita-All you can drink Margarita night at Taco Tico's in downtown Colorado Springs.

And then the gate shut down.

"Will you get off of me," Daniel Jackson hissed, not realizing that being crushed to death by Teal'c and Jack O'Neill was the least of his concerns. He was actually quite worried that somehow his glasses would get broken.

A voice came over the PA, and the Chevron Guy as Daniel always called him, as he could never remember if the Sergeant's name was Davis or Harriman, seemed somewhat concerned. Ok, extremely concerned.

"Colonel O'Neill, where are General Hammond and Captain Carter?"

Realizing the full extent of the base's problems, Daniel Jackson had complete faith that Jack O'Neill would know what to do. He'd be calm, cool and collected. Nothing ever fazed Jack. Jack was a hardened military man.

Everything would be just fine, right Jack?

_**RIGHT, JACK?**_

"Holy fuck," Jack O'Neill whispered. "We've lost the General and Carter."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU. In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

WIP

* * *

"Sir?" Captain Carter queried. 

There was a slightest quiver in her voice, which meant she was uncertain. Whether Captain Carter was uncertain that her CO was dead and thought her career was over before it had barely begun or what, he couldn't have said.

"Captain, let me guess, we're no longer in Kansas, are we?" George Hammond questioned drolly.

"No, Sir," she agreed.

"I hope I didn't hurt you when I dove through the gate. That Al'Kesh was getting a little close to comfort. Colonel O'Neill? Doctor Jackson? Teal'c?" George called.

Quiet.

**_Ah fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_**

Captain Carter cleared her throat, and he sighed. Inwardly, as Generals never ever sighed in front of their subordinates. No, they always remained calm headed and cool, even though right now, he knew that they were in a **_hell_** of a lot of trouble.

"They're not **_here_**, are they?" George questioned. He sat up, refusing to give voice to the pain in his shoulder and after he mistakenly opened his eyes, the General closed them quickly before he vomited, as everything went black and swirly on him.

"No," she answered.

"The Colonel would be mouthing off by now," George retorted. "I hope that means they got home safely, as they were in the wormhole before us. Can you dial us home, Captain?"

Silence.

"There's a problem with the DHD?" George questioned patiently, as he was all too familiar with how to pry vital information from close-mouthed Subordinates. Though this was the first time he had to do it off world with a concussion, and hopefully the last.

Good God, his ears were still ringing like he had been kicked in the face by a mule.

"Yes, Sir," the Captain whispered.

He was still sitting up, his long legs stretched out in front of him. George then tried to move his right arm and from he could sense, his right arm remained immotile. Carefully he opened his eyes, slowly, experimentally, waiting for that tell-tale disequilibrium to make a command appearance. It didn't and the nausea was gone, replaced instead by a screaming, fiery ache in his shoulder.

Both eyes opened, he then took a look at his surroundings. Lots of trees. Must be an old forest as their heights literally reached the sky. Their leaves had fallen to the ground, and there was that crisp smell in the air that forecast a hell of a lot snow. The clouds were dark, and either the sun was just rising, or it was going down.

Couldn't really tell.

What he could tell when he gingerly turned his head was that his right shoulder wasn't looking quite right, and there was a noticeable bulge a few inches below his shoulder. Shit. That was probably the head of the humerus bone that had popped out of his shoulder socket. He **_could_** move his fingers on his right arm, but not much else.

Damn, damn, damn. He had dislocated his right shoulder once before, and now, he could never say that again.

_**Hey! Least I'm a leftie!**_

There were a few old stone buildings nearby and the grass was quite high around the Gate, which combined with no Jaffa trying to kill them, meant that in all likelihood this was an abandoned Gate. It would be one hell of a bumpy ride on the road in front of them as the surface of thoroughfare was fractured and cracked.

Glancing quickly at the sky, he noticed that there were three moons in the sky which meant that they were in a different solar system than the one they had left. It also loudly announced that they hadn't landed on Earth in some god-forsaken, long forgotten beta site.

Please, God, let there be **_no_** hostiles.

Also out of the corner of his eye, he could see that a concerned looking Captain Carter was hovering near him.

"No, your CO ain't dead yet, Captain," he snapped. "Are you hurt?"

"Not really," she answered quickly.

Too quickly, in fact, which meant that she was probably hurt from the Ole Man throwing her through the Gate. From years of reliving a certain incident of his life over and over again, his blue eyes flickered to her hands. **_No _**wound.

_**Thank God.**_

Well, maybe that was a good sign?

"I do believe you're lying to me, but I can't do anything sitting down in the dirt," George growled. "Give me your hand; you'll have to help me on my feet, Captain."

Hesitantly, she extended her right hand out to him. Grasping his left hand with it, she gave a mighty yank in which Captain Carter was nearly successful in pulling her off her feet and onto his broken shoulder.

"Captain," George said quietly, trying hard to bite back a very bitter laugh. "You're a straw weight if I ever met one."

She looked confused by his term.

"Boxing weight class," he explained curtly, hoping she wouldn't think that he was commenting on her being a lightweight officer. Last thing he needed now was her to go off on one of her "I'm Female hear me roar!" speeches.

"Let's try it again, Captain, and this time, is there something you can hold onto? I need to get on my knees at least."

Carter nodded her head once, extended her arm again and gracelessly, he wallowed in the dirt, until this time he was on his knees. He managed not to scream only through sheer determination and biting his lip. Taking a few deep breaths didn't really help, and his right hand still wasn't doing a damn thing except swinging in the breeze, a few noticeable inches longer than the other one.

He was kneeling in front of the young officer, his left arm once again firmly on his right arm trying to give it some sort of stability and support and he sighed. There was no easy way to do what had to be done next, but he had to bite the bullet. Therefore he looked into the Captain's eyes, and said in his best no-nonsense voice, "Captain Carter, I require you to remove my belt."

"**_Sir?_**"

That was a definite squawk of an answer.

What the **_hell_**?

Did she think he wanted to knock their boots together?

While he had a **_dislocated_** shoulder?

_**Good God in heaven! **_

"I believe that I have dislocated my shoulder," George explained patiently. "I require my belt and yours, Captain. Because you'll be donating yours to the cause also as I'll need you to sling and swathe my shoulder. Use your belt as the sling, and swathe it with my belt. When we get back to the base, the orthopedic can just pop it back in after you fix the problem with the DHD."

"Sir, you haven't looked at the DHD yet, have you?" Carter questioned, too polite to remind him that she had told him that there was a whole heap of trouble with the DHD. "It looks like it was hit with staff weapon fire, as it's missing a few symbols."

That bit of news motivated him to actually stand up on his two feet under his own power, cursing creatively due to the agonizingly intense pain of his separated shoulder. Captain Carter appeared surprised by his ingenious and unique treatment of the English language and several foreign languages including Arabic.

There was **_nothing_** quite like cursing in Arabic as it got your blood moving and your heart pumping.

"You're not familiar with Arabic, are you, Captain?" He questioned quickly while he was staring at the charred remains of the shattered and melted DHD. Of the 38 symbols normally on the gate, there were a total of 30 or so.

"A wee bit, Sir," she admitted. "That last one was really **_rather_** inspired."

He barked a laugh, and then winced as laughing caused a whole new realm of sensations to occur in his right shoulder, none of which were pleasant, and were in fact, down right excruciating, agonizing and unbearable.

"Have you tried dialing out yet?" George knew the answer most likely was. "I'm not sure if I blacked out or not. Everything's a little fuzzy, Captain."

"No, you weren't out for long, Sir. I haven't tried to gate yet," Captain Carter informed him.

Good, she was settling down. A little nervous upon realizing the extent of the situation, but now she was calm, cool and collected. She had a mess of bruises forming on her face, but he didn't see any else.

"First, let's get my arm in a sling and swathed, Captain. Then let's give you another go around to see if you can get the gate to open," he ordered.

* * *

Samantha Carter 

**_Great_**.

She was on a strange planet with her new CO, who knew her father.

In fact, Major Generals Hammond and Carter were thick as thieves as her father had faithfully gotten a George Hammond sketched Texas-style Christmas card every year as long as she could remember. The year before her Mom had died, they had received a card with a Santa wearing a cowboy hat, a black leather vest and cowboy boots with spurs riding a bucking bull much to her mother's amused disbelief.

Also her psyche kept jabbing her with a sharp needle and screaming that she **_should_** remember meeting General Hammond earlier on in her life. It was a Carter Christmas tradition to mention how for years, Samantha and Mark Carter had believed that Santa delivered babies on the day after Christmas.

Her father had blamed a "GEORGE" for that conviction and as far as Samantha knew, George Hammond was her father's only "George" friend.

She couldn't ask her father about George because she didn't desire Dad calling George. Being in the service as long as she had been, far too many Generals knew her as ole Jake Carter's baby girl, and she wanted to sink or swim on her own abilities, especially now, as she appeared to be drowning completely on her own merits.

The only time she **_could_** remember meeting George Hammond was after her mom's funeral when she had gotten overwhelmed by all the mourners in their house. Looking for an escape from the milling crowds, and despite wearing a dress, she had climbed high up among the big limbs of a perfect tree for climbing that overlooked their backyard. Five minutes after she had reached her leafy ascent, an auburn haired lite colonel by the name of George Hammond had joined her and **_suggested_** that she get her ass back on the terra firma as she was freaking out her father and both sets of grandparents.

Then he warned her that if she didn't go willingly, he'd haul her ass back down.

She had **_never_** mentioned that incident to him, as he had threatened to push her off the tree limb when she sassed him back and told him she'd like to see him try.

Yes, General Hammond had never mentioned how **_well_** he knew Jake Carter, fire breathing dragon or that he had met her in a tree prior to her walking into the SGC. In fact, he usually didn't say too much. Instead, he was always watching SG1 and her in particular, she knew. Measuring, qualifying, and making his own private judgments about each member of his flagship team.

Hammond didn't look too thrilled about the current situation, and in fact, the General had looked generally irked at her when she had wanted confirmation that he wanted her to remove his belt. It wasn't that Samantha thought that her straight laced CO was making a move on her, but she had a bit of ringing in her ears.

"Require you to remove my belt" had for just a moment sounded like, "Linus and Lucy Van Pelt".

The General was hunched over; supporting his right arm with his left, and he appeared to be in a hell of a lot of pain.

"Sir? Let me take my belt off," she requested. "I can sling your arm with it, and then…"

**_You can take your own belt off_** was what she was tempted to say, as undressing Senior Officers was usually a very bad career move that led to only one result.

"I can let go of my arm long enough to unbuckle my belt, but I don't think I'll be able to get my belt out of the loops," Hammond interrupted. "It's gonna hurt like a **_son_** of a bitch, Captain. But if you can't get that gate working, you'll have to pop back into the socket as I'm next to useless right now."

"First things first, I can move my fingers, so I'm assuming that means I have a pulse. Please check that and my capillary refill, as I'm afraid if I let go of my right arm again, it will fall off," Hammond insisted dryly and rather tersely. "You'll need to take my watch off. Fortunately, it's not my left hand, so you don't have to get my wedding ring off. Only way that you'll get it off of me, is if I'm dead. Then you're to take it, and ensure that my eldest daughter gets it."

Considering Hammond was in a significant amount of pain, Samantha was rather impressed with how calmly he was speaking. Yet, there was going to be blood spurting from his lip if he didn't stop biting it.

Quickly she confirmed that he had a pulse in his right hand, had a strong grip in his right hand and his cap refill was good. The General growled and winced during her exam, and for a moment, she heard his whispered, savage curses. When she looked at him, he actually **_blushed_**, and gave her a tight smile.

"I hope my language isn't offending you, Captain."

"No, no, sir, it's not," she agreed, trying **_not_** to show her amusement that her CO's face had gone tomato red because his junior officer had understood his rather fluent and rather **_original_** curses in Arabic.

The watch came off with a stifled scream, and Hammond nodded his head in approval.

"Take your belt off, Captain," he instructed.

Then Samantha quickly unbuckled her belt and removed it, making damn sure she didn't look at him when she did it. Then Hammond spoke to her quietly.

"Captain? There's been a slight change of plans. I want you to confirm that my shoulder is indeed out, and you're going to pop it in **_right_** now."

"Sir?" Samantha questioned, wanting to confirm that she understood.

"My muscles are spasming. Either the bone gets put back in right now, or I'll start… **_screaming,_**" Hammond stated very, very intensely. "It's not that hard. It's very easy to put back in. It happened to me once before, and I was able to pop it in myself, but I just can't place my arm into that position this time."

"I haven't done this before," Samantha admitted.

"It's easy. I'll just lie down on my back," Hammond stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled. "You'll put your foot on my chest for leverage, and then you'll pull my arm…at forty five degrees or so until it slides in again."

She couldn't help but stare at him in complete bafflement. She was supposed to put her FOOT on her GENERAL'S chest and give his arm the old heave ho?

"Do it, Captain," Hammond's voice was no longer the low, mellifluous Texas drawl with which she was familiar, no, he now he sounded like a Goa'uld. "Do it **_now_**…You've got one chance to do it, and you _better_ do it right."

* * *

The muscles in his arm and shoulder was having a goddamn party and hooting and hollering all over the damn place. The pain had increased tenfold when Carter was taking off his watch and he couldn't help his involuntary and truth be told, extremely crude voicing of his pain. He could, if had been alone, have attempted to pop the bone in by himself, but… that method was the last resort. 

He was in too much pain to even **_think_** about getting back on the ground and wrapping his bad arm around his knee…

"Hold the arm," he ordered. "I have to take my jacket off."

Captain Carter grabbed his left arm, and he sighed.

Out loud, like a raw recruit.

"Right arm, Captain?" He hissed.

"Oh yes," she said with a slight flush.

"My fault," George apologized tersely. "My instructions weren't clear."

What followed next would have been funny; except for the fact he nearly screamed four or five times from the pain when his right arm got jarred. As it was, he did scream twice, before two of them maneuvered the field jacket off him and he was wearing only his short sleeved bdu shirt in the brisk wind.

"Now cut the right sleeve open," he instructed. "You need to confirm that my humerus is out of the socket, instead of merely broken in half."

_**Merely? MERELY? If it's merely broken in half, you're gonna need an orthopedic surgeon, George!**_

Carter carefully cut his sleeve in half and when she had finished, she paused.

"That's my wife," he explained through gritted teeth as he knew that she was staring at his tattoo.

Maggie Mae was in all her glory, wearing nothing more than a big smile and a Texas flag that barely made the tattoo legal in eight different states. Underneath her picture was the date of their marriage, the names of their children and the date of her death. Every few years, he got 'her' inked up again, and in fact, had gotten her prettied and freshened up just before Jack O'Neill sauntered into his life, so he knew that Maggie Mae was looking fresh and vibrant and the Texas Flag was doing everything but ripple in the brisk breeze.

Well, maybe it did look like it was rippling, as his arm muscles were in spasms.

"Wow," Carter exclaimed. "That's one heck of a tattoo, Sir."

"Stop admiring it, Captain. Just confirm that the bone isn't where it's supposed to be, and that the bone isn't snapped in half. If for any reason, you maneuver my arm so that my bone is sticking OUT of my tattoo rather than inside my arm socket, that will be an automatic cause for a court martial."

She winced, and he sighed.

"**_Joke_**," he said tightly. "Just an attempt to lighten the mood and get my mind off the pain, Captain."

Carter flushed again, murmured an apology and then poked and prodded his arm. He growled, roared, whimpered and whined while she poking his arm, and he was able to make a very rude comment, two stars be dammed when Carter agreed with his assessment.

Yup, the bone was out and dangling in the breeze. Well, least his knuckles weren't dragging on the ground yet.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I just haven't seen a tattoo like that before," she said. "It's exceedingly detailed."

Gingerly, he sat down on the ground, trying to ignore his pain. It was a constant pain, except when a spasm occurred and it started anew. It was almost… like… labor pains, he thought with bitter amusement. Then he bit his lip hard, before lying on the ground.

"Thank you, Captain. I drew it myself, and one of my buddies was handy with a needle," he explained, trying to pretend that this was a normal conversation and he wasn't breathing heavily to ignore the pain. "I have to admit that I'm surprised that you haven't seen one like this before. Now, grab my arm by the wrist and pull… gently… On my count of five."

He took her belt and put it between his teeth, wishing not for the first time that there was a doctor or two with a dozen shots of morphine with his name on them. Carter grabbed his wrist carefully, and then she gingerly placed her foot on his chest. With his left hand, he began counting down.

On the count of two, Samantha Carter pulled his arm and he commenced screaming. While Maggie had been able to give birth to Jocelyn with only a small whimper or two, he wasn't that strong. Samantha was a smart girl; she knew if she waited to start yanking at the count of five, he would have already tensed up from the anticipation of the pain.

* * *

_Maggie was tuckered out. He was sitting next to her on the Carter's couch. He had one arm around her shoulder protectively and she had snuggled close to him. They were watching the Carter kids play with their Christmas presents even as they were whispering about their hopes for their next Christmas together when Viviane entered the room._

"_Maggie, you look exhausted, why don't you go to bed? Jake's agreed to sleep in Sam's twin bed, George will get the couch, and you, Sam and I get the king sized bed," Viviane explained._

"_I don't mean to kick you out of your bed, Jake," Maggie protested._

"_Nonsense, I don't mind," Jake insisted._

_It took a bit of maneuvering as Maggie was awkward these days, and she leaned heavily on George for a few minutes after Jake and him had gotten her upright. His wife was carrying awfully low these days, so George knew that it was only a matter of time before she had the baby. Goddamn it, of all the times to get transferred! He had requested this transfer back in **mid August! **_

_And because of that damn spy episode, the powers that be had hemmed and they had hawed and they had made him jump through hoops even though the new commander at Cheyenne had made plain his strong desire to see the back of everyone's head had been involved in the Soviet Spy Incident running out the door to a new assignment. _

_Damn it, he had ruined a lot of good people's careers, as that was a blemish on their records that would haunt them for the remainder of their enlistments. Plus, he had those four plus months of hell he had lived through, and it was nothing compared to the abuse and castigation his wife had gotten from her so called friends._

_George helped Maggie get ready for bed, and tucked her in. He then returned back to the living room where Viviane grabbed him by the arm._

"_When is your wife due again?" She questioned._

"_Two weeks or so," he informed her._

"_Are you **sure**?" Viviane questioned intently._

"_We saw the doctor yesterday. He says it's a good two or three more weeks," George insisted. "Why do you say that?"_

"_Your baby is on the launch pad and counting down, George," Viviane insisted. "She'll have that baby by New Year's."_

_Jake heard the conversation and shook his head, "As long as it's not tonight. There's three feet of snow on the ground and they're forecasting another couple feet."_

_Soon everyone was asleep, including George, even though the sofa wasn't that comfortable. But it had been a long day, and he was tired… It was close to midnight when he felt someone jab him._

"_Not tonight, Mags, I'm tired," he groaned. "'Sides girl, what will the Carters think? In the **middle **of their living room?"_

"_Hi," said a little girl's voice. "Are you **awake**?"_

_He opened one eye and saw Samantha Carter staring at him. He couldn't believe it; the little girl hadn't talked to him all day and all night even when they had played Matt Mason underneath the dining room table. Instead she had shyly issued her commands to her Executive Officer, that being her dad, who in turned gave her orders to George, and she was now waking him up to talk?_

"_Thank you for Matt Mason," she said in a very serious voice. "I love him. I want to be an astro …astro…"_

"_Astronaut?" George smiled._

"_Yeah, I want to be an astro nut when I grow up."_

_She looked so serious that he couldn't even crack a smile when she mispronounced the word. _

"_That's nice, dear. I'm sure you'll be a great one! Now why don't you go back to bed with your Mom?" George questioned, not wanting to get too annoyed. "We can talk tomorrow morning."_

"_I can't. Mommy says wake you. Woke Daddy. Woke you." Samantha explained in that too serious voice of hers. "I sleep on the couch. Mommy says. Mark has to sleep on the floor.""_

_George sat straight up and tried to find his shirt. He was just wearing a pair of sweats. _

"_Pretty," Samantha whispered, pointing to his shoulder. He had a tattoo of Maggie on his arm which he had gotten inked two days after they had gotten married. The picture didn't do her justice, but it was a way of keeping her with him always._

"_That's my wife," he explained, as he was still looking for his shirt._

"_Her tummy hurts," Samantha explained before giggling. "She **wet** the bed!"_

_Samantha giggled again as George's heart sank._

"_Like a baby!" Samantha said helpfully. "I'm not a baby anymore. I'm a **big** girl!"_

"_Aw… **SHIT**!" George cursed. "She can't be in labor."_

_Samantha giggled wildly at him._

"_You said a bad word!" Samantha giggled. "My Daddy says them too! He tells me to not tell Mommy! He also tells me not to say them!"_

"_Samantha…"_

"_My name is **SAM**!" she interrupted._

"_Ok, Sam, I'm going upstairs now. Get on the bed and go to sleep," George instructed._

_Jake Carter met him at the stairs. He was wearing his pjs and he had obviously dressed in a hurry as his shirt was inside out. His dark eyes were a little wild eyed and he was muttering something rather obscene. _

"_I'm to boil water. You got your pilot's knife on you?" Jake questioned. _

"_In my pants' pocket," George explained. "Downstairs by the couch."_

"_I'm to sterilize my knife and yours with whatever I can find plus boil water. Viv's on the phone with the hospital and it looks like we're delivering the baby here. I just checked; we can't get out of the driveway as the snow is still falling."_

"_The doc said two more weeks!" George protested. It was a vain, futile protest, but Good God, Maggie was in labor in a stranger's bed! _

"_It's tonight, George," Jake informed him. "Now get up there, grab as many towels as you can from the bathroom on your way."_

_Maggie was **scared**._

_He could tell the minute he walked into the room. _

_Viv Carter had the heart of a drill sergeant, as the bed was neatly stripped of its covers, except for a few blankets that covered Maggie. Viv had a watch in one hand, gripping Maggie's hand with another and somehow managing to balance the phone as she was reporting information to the doctor._

"_Her water's broke, one second… George… I need you here, please, by Maggie's side."_

_George kneeled on the side of the bed next to Maggie. Maggie latched onto his hand with a death grip. She was **terrified**. And to his amazement, after all his deep, dark fears about becoming a father, now that it was happening, he was outwardly as calm as the proverbial June bug. With his free hand, he wiped her sweaty hair out of her dark eyes._

"_Hey Darling, fixin ta to have a Christmas baby, are you?" He spoke in a slow drawl, stressing his small town Texas accent, as Maggie and he always did when they were alone together. _

"_George…" Maggie whispered in a very shamed voice. "I **ruined** their mattress."_

"_Darling, we'll make amends with a new one so don't you get all worked up about it," George promised. "I'm so sorry, dear. So sorry…Your mamma wanted to be here for this…I wish we were in Colorado… oh God…oh how I am wishin' we were still in Colorado…It's all my fault we're here in Alaska."_

_Well not **completely** his fault, and again, he realized the extent of burden he had so glibly accepted, unknowing and uncaring of the pain he'd put Maggie through._

"_I want my Mamma, George," Maggie whispered. "I'm so **scared**. "_

_You four **better** be worth it, he vowed. Or else I'm taking it out of your hides when we meet._

"_What happened, darling?" He questioned softly, trying to project a confidence he was sorry lacking. She needed to be in a hospital! Not in a near stranger's king size bed! "You're fixin ta have our baby, quick as a hiccup in the Carters' bed. They've been right neighborly with us, real good folk, but that might be askin' a bit much."_

"_I've been having short little cramps since we moved. Yesterday, I asked the Doc when he examined me and he just told me it was nothing to fuss about, that it was just false labor as my body was getting to ready to have the baby. He told me that I was to worry only when they came real regular like and hurt real bad," Maggie explained softly. "They weren't regular during the dinner, and they didn't hurt, so I figured they weren't nothing. Nothing at all, George. I was so tired, and went to bed early. I was barely asleep when I made a big mess on their bed, George."_

"_That doc's a **fucking** idiot," George snarled. _

"_George, I ruined their mattress," Maggie wept. "They were so **kind** to us."_

"_Darling, don't worry 'bout the mule, just unload the wagon," he whispered. _

_Viviane questioned from the foot of the bed in a very concerned voice, "I have no idea what you two are talking about, but there will be no mules in my bedroom!"_

_Maggie and he both laughed hard, until Maggie had another contraction. She gasped and grabbed his hand hard until the pain eased. _

"_Easy, easy, girl," he whispered, as he wiped a cool cloth against her sweaty face. "Everything's going fine."_

_Then he turned to face Viviane. "I just told her to have our baby, and I'll make amends with you about the mattress. The only mule in the room will be me, as I'm a stubborn Texas mule."_

_

* * *

_

"Are you alright, Sir?" Carter questioned intently.

His junior officer was having one bitch of a time trying to get his arm positioned correctly. His spasming muscles were tighter than hell and the goddamn shoulder wouldn't go back into position, no matter how many times nor how hard she yanked his arm about. It was a near miss each time, he could swear, like a scared pilot unable to land on the naval aircraft carrier.

Zooming in, almost touching down before getting scared and pulling up into the wild, blue yonder.

"Don't worry about the mule," George said loudly with a great deal of asperity. "Just **_LOAD_** the damn wagon, Captain!"

"I have **_no_** idea what you mean, Sir! There are no mules here!"

He had to laugh, as Samantha sounded exactly like her mother had all those years ago.

"Just do it, Captain!" George informed her.

George let out a full fledged scream, as Samantha Carter twisted and hoisted his arm back in the socket. Then he gasped in relief when, with an almost audible click, the bone went back into position.

* * *

Jack O'Neill waved his arms in the hopes of keeping the medic at bay. He had far more important things to worry about, such as he was missing his CO and his 2IC after a nice day off world. 

Plus the Gate was **_down_**.

Yes. The Gate was **_down_**, as was half the mountain apparently. There had been a surge of some sort and the Gate had hiccupped, sparked an arc and then had shut down. Sgt. Siler, the resident mechanical genius, was shaking his head. He held a voltmeter in one hand, and a large wrench in another, plus he had a large blood soaked bandaid on his temple. The surge had thrown Sparky clear across the room and he would need stitches to close the wound, but Sparky had slapped the bandaid on and insisted on going back to work when he realized that Hammond and Carter weren't back.

The news had traveled fast through the SGC, and there was a surfeit of volunteers from the all the departments, all insisting that they be allowed to help.

"Problem, Sergeant?" O'Neill questioned.

"I think the Gate blew a fuse." Siler stated in his usual laconic way.

"Think you might be able to run out to the Home Depot and find the right fuse?" O'Neill snapped.

O'Neill waved an apology, as he knew he shouldn't be short tempered with the injured man, but **_damn _**it!

"It's not that simple, Sir," Siler explained. "We have to test the semiconductors…the wiring…"

"It never is easy, Sgt," O'Neill retorted. "That's what makes our job so much fun. Now tell me what you need to get the gate back online, and how much time you're going to need."

"A minimum of forty eight hours," Siler stated firmly.

"Forty eight hours? May I remind you that there is a two star general that is in command of this facility that is under enemy fire right now?" O'Neill reminded him. "On another planet? He'll be looking to get home, Sparky. That is **_not_** acceptable!"

Siler took a deep breath, and the NCO began speaking patiently.

"Sir, there was a major energy spike the moment you three exited the event horizon. There were two other entities were in transport through the wormhole, at that time, which I'm assuming were General Hammond and Captain Carter. We also know that there **_were_** two energy patterns forming in the buffer. They were about to exit the event horizon when the spike occurred. Sir, every circuit breaker connected to the Stargate **_popped_**," Siler explained. "The computer crashed and even it took the UPS system and the half the mountain down with it, Sir. And when the computer came back up, Sir, the buffer was **_empty_**."

"Wait… wait…" Daniel Jackson inserted quickly. "What happened to Sam and General Hammond? They were in the buffer?"

"Yes…" Siler explained. "But they're **_not_** now."

"Where are they then?" O'Neill questioned. "I wish Carter was here. She'd give me a straight answer…. It wouldn't make any sense, but it would be a straight answer! Sparky, **_where_** are they? Spit it out!"

"Sir… I don't know," Siler explained. "They could have returned to the gate of origin…"

"With a few hundred Jaffa waiting for them," Jack reminded him. "Let me hear the other choices."

"They could be on another planet," continued Siler. The sergeant paused and then said the ultimate, final choice which Jack didn't want to hear. "Or… they could be dead, Sir because their energy patterns are no longer in the buffer. But there **_must_** be a failsafe device to protect patterns that are in the buffer, Sir, but we're not sure."

"Like a tape backup?" Daniel questioned.

"Tape backup?" mouthed O'Neill. He shook his head and then turned to the SGC's resident Gate expert. "T, what do you know about the gate? Is there anything you can think of that might be useful?"

The Jaffa shook his head slowly, and regretfully spoke, "I am afraid not, O'Neill."

"Very well then, as of now," Jack looked at his watch before spitting out the time and date.

"I'm taking command of this establishment. All resources are to be focused on getting our personnel **_home_**. I will contact General Ryan and advise him of the current situation," O'Neill ordered. "We will get our people home. There is no **_OTHER_** acceptable alternative, is that understood? No one is **_ever_** left behind!"

Some people might think he was a goof-off, but when the chips were down, he played to win.

* * *

It was getting brighter, rather than darker, George noticed. Thank God something was going right! His right arm was neatly slung and swathed, and he could move his right to about so high before he had the urge to scream. 

"Captain Carter," George drawled. "How do you feel?"

She began mumbling some horseshit and he cut her off quickly with a single gesture.

"Captain Carter, when I ask you a question, I expect you to be completely honest with me," he explained patiently. "Cut the good solider crap please. I hit you pretty hard when I threw you through the Gate. Are you ok?"

"Little dizzy, Sir," she admitted finally.

"Ears ringing?"

"Yes, Sir," the blond agreed.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He asked her.

She peered at his hand and George shook his head.

"If it's taking you that long to count them, then you've got a concussion to match mine. Any idea why we're here? Do you think the rest of SG1 got back safely?"

Carter gave him a rather succinct report, a perfect textbook example of a junior officer reporting to her CO. While he was quite grateful that she wasn't longwinded, he wanted more than an interpretive tap dance of "I don't have a fucking clue."

"Captain, can you try to get the DHD online? I'll guard you, though I think if there were any hostiles around, we probably would have been discovered by now," he admitted. "'Specially with me screaming my fool head off when you put my arm back in."

For a moment, Samantha Carter almost smiled, before she nodded her head in agreement.

"Yes, Sir, I'll do my best to get the DHD online," she announced.

"Good. I'm going to scout the terrain slightly. This place is…. **_peculiar_**…" George paused, wanting to see if his junior office understood him.

"The grass is too high," Captain Carter agreed after a moment's pause. "Most DHDs… well… the few that I've actually seen… are usually in a well traveled area. The roadway is fractured and cracked."

"Grass is growing in the cracks, and I think that sapling over there is a year or so old," George pointed at a small, crooked seedling that was inching skyward after having sprouted among the cracks of the pavement. "Captain, it's going to snow. If you can't get the DHD online and working, we need to figure out shelter."

"Yes, sir," she agreed.

Jacob Carter's daughter began walking toward the DHD and he could see the unease and uncertainly that she was trying to hide from her superior officer. For a moment, she reminded him of a young Air Force officer, stationed in Alaska with his wife and a brand new baby, who was facing his new CO for the first time with the blemish of the Cheyenne Mountain incident hanging over his head. He couldn't be as brusque to Carter as Mansfield had been to that red-headed boy from Texas. But now, decades later, what he remembered more than anything about Mansfield, was that old General Gripe & Guts has boosted his self-esteem by reassuring George that he'd get a fair shake from his new CO.

He could do no less for Samantha Carter.

It was the only fair thing to do, as the first-rate Generals, the Generals he'd **_admired_** when he served under them and the Generals he had vowed to be like when he was wearing stars on his shoulders, **_always_** took care of their own.

No **_matter_** what the personal cost, he was finding out.

Mansfield had ordered personnel out into a middle of a blizzard because his newest officer's wife had delivered a baby off base and needed medical attention. Then he had jumped into the driver's seat and driven one of the rigs himself because he took that sacred responsibility between General and his personnel that seriously.

And while currently George was willing to ponder the fact that he just **_might_** possibly be a cranky bear with a sore tooth in regards to four particular members of the SGC, he'd still do his damnest to make sure they were safe.

Emotionally, physically and mentally.

There was an easing of the ache in his soul, because he was at last working through his feelings toward the time travelers. Treating them like every other personnel under his command was a good start. He had known that his ambivalence to the four was unhealthy, a holding onto past hurts and griefs that prevented him from marching healthily into the future… but… damn it… how he **_missed_** his Maggie.

She was kind-hearted, and would have called the deal square and fair, his bucking for General and all the trouble his career had made for her, in order to save those four lives, but…that was such cold comfort in a large, lonely bed.

Yet, right now, he needed to stop worrying about himself and his whining about what had happened and what was to happen, and to focus on Carter. His junior officer's self-confidence was a might shaky, and so George did what he had done before for others in that same situation, and would continue doing for as long as he wore the stars on his shoulder.

One booster shot of self-confidence coming up!

"Captain," he stated quietly but firmly. "I have the **_utmost_** confidence in your ability to get us home."

"Sir, if the DHD is broken," Captain Carter began explaining.

He cut her off quickly with a fast gesture.

"Captain, you have to understand something. I **_know_** without a shadow of a doubt, that we'll get back to Earth, probably in time to call my grandchildren at three thirty. You see, Captain, I met a blonde hair, blue eyed gypsy a few years back, and she read my lifeline. She prophesized about my future for near an hour, Captain, and I haven't done most of what she told me that I was gonna do."

"A gypsy, sir?" Samantha questioned with a slight smirk. "May I ask what she told you?"

"She told me that one day I'd go through a big, pool of blue and find myself on another planet, Captain. I also knew way back then that I'd make General before I retired. I'll tell you the rest of what she predicted after it happens, as I don't think I should screw up the timeline. But rest assured, Captain, I've got hell of lot more living to do on Earth."

That quip earned a real smile from Captain Carter and her uncertainty of a few minutes previous had disappeared to places unknown, and instead there was a growing sense of hope and possibility of escape in the current situation.

If the ole man thought she'd get them home, well… he might be right.

Then George began scooping out the surroundings, trying to keep his mind firmly on the situation at hand, but he was overcome by memories of Christmas past. Damn it, he hadn't thought about ole Tommy Mansfield in a dog's age.

* * *

_It was day three in the Carter Household, and without a shadow of a doubt the three Hammonds were rapidly wearing out their welcome at the Carter's. The Carters weren't saying it out loud as they were decent folk, but one knew that unexpected houseguests always started smelling pretty foul by the third day. He and Jake had shoveled the driveway out after it had finally stopped snowing. They had then given up in disgust when they "hit" the main road as it hadn't been plowed. The ambulance driver had claimed that they were unable to drive out to the Carter's house located outside the base proper until the roadways were clear even though Maggie was a tad feverish and needed to be checked out by a **real** doctor._

_Then the clouds had opened and the snow flakes began falling fast and furious._

_Viviane was already planning a surprise baby shower for Maggie, as Jake's wife had been dismayed to find out that Maggie hadn't been given one in Colorado by her fellow officers' wives. George had been at a lost to explain the entire situation with the bitches… err… officers' wives to Viviane, and loath to give too many details about why he had desired a transfer to Alaska in December with a very pregnant wife to Jacob. Simply put, after being officer non grata in Colorado for those last four plus months of sheer hell, he feared risking his tentative friendship with the man. _

_He and Jake had a similar sense of humor, as they had spontaneously decided to inform the young Carter kids that Santa had delivered young Jocelyn (named for Josh, his dad) Anne (named for Viviane who was one hell of a crackerjack doctor, midwife, scrub nurse and military wife all rolled up into a very pretty blonde hair and blue eyed package) Hammond during the night. _

_Viviane had sent the kids to sleep downstairs by the Christmas tree when she realized that Maggie was in labor as she didn't want the kids to get scared if Maggie had cried out. Maggie had been a real trooper, but **damn**, she had been in a hell of a lot of pain toward the end, but determined not to cry out. _

_The Carter kids had managed to sleep through it all, and they had appeared rather perplexed by Jocelyn's arrival. The Santa story was a good cover, and Mark had easily accepted it. But Samantha was a smart kid, so naturally she didn't believe any part of the "Santa delivers babies" story._

"_Santa doesn't bring babies!" Samantha insisted. "The **stork** does."_

"_Sammy, storks get grounded sometimes," George explained while looking at Samantha's father for backup._

_Jake was trying not to grin, and Samantha shook her head. _

"_Adverse weather conditions prevented the stork from flying," her father insisted._

"_A verse?" Samantha questioned._

"_Bad weather, the stork couldn't deliver the baby," George continued smoothly. "So Santa said he'd deliver Jocelyn after he was done delivering toys to all the boys and girls."_

"_The baby came **AFTER** Christmas!" Sammy insisted, a little too gleeful that she had poked a hole in their story. _

"_Santa needed to make a fast delivery, Sammy," Jake stated firmly. "Else the baby might have gotten a cold during the blizzard." _

_Viviane was hustling about and there were assorted pans being rattled in the kitchen. The phone rang and Viviane grabbed it quickly. She had a hurried conversation with someone and then she hung up the phone._

"_George, get Maggie and the baby ready to go," Viviane said when she entered the room._

"_Viv, it's snowing outside and the roadway still isn't clear," Jake reminded her quietly. "We'll get stuck before we get out of the development."_

"_I know that, Jacob. The ambulance **is** coming," Viviane stated firmly._

"_The roads aren't plowed, they said they won't leave the base to come here," Jake reminded his wife. "The joys of off-base housing."_

"_Jacob," Viviane stated in a no-nonsense voice. "I just spoke to the doctor on the phone just now. He says that they'll be here as soon as they can. I need to warm some water, so I can make sure the hot water bottles are ready to go as we'll have to make sure Jocelyn stays warm during the transport to the hospital. George, you will make sure that we get them back?"_

_George nodded his head, though he had to admit that he was really confused._

"_Viviane, what did you do?" Jake questioned._

"_I spoke to Shelby. She agreed that it wasn't right, and that she'd handle it. The doctor just called and said he'd be here within the hour."_

_That was said quickly, before Viviane strategically retreated into the kitchen. Jake groaned, and shook his head._

"_Shelby?" George questioned._

"_General Mansfield's wife," Jake explained. "If the doctor just called and agreed to send out the ambulance, I would expect that Mansfield will be arriving with them."_

"_Fuck," George prayed a curse or cursed a prayer. "I am indeed grateful to your wife, but a very small part of me was hoping that I wouldn't come to the attention of the General just yet."_

"_What the hell happened to you in Cheyenne, George?" Jake questioned._

_George sighed, and he leaned closer to Jacob to ensure that Samantha wouldn't hear his explanation._

"_Time travelers aborted a Titan Missile launch and then escaped with my assistance to wreck complete and utter havoc on the time line because the Future General Me had sent the Current Lieutenant Me a note to help them," George explained. _

_There was NO way in hell Carter would ever believe him, but George really needed to tell someone… **anyone**… the truth. _

_Jacob pulled back, before giving him an incredulous look and shaking his head._

"_Fine, don't tell me then," Jake laughed. "General? You'll make General when I do!"_

_Mansfield was a solidly built, non-nonsense man who looked like he ate rocks for breakfast, with a rasping voice that sounded like he drank shots of turpentine with pebbles for chasers, arrived with two ambulances, one for the patient, and the other carrying assorted MPs and other conscripted airmen complete with shovels and other snow removal equipment, and a freckled face, dark haired doc that wasn't the doctor that had examined Maggie and glibly assured of her supposed due date._

_For one thing, Doc looked competent, and he was kind enough to apologize for the other idiot. _

"_Mrs. Hammond, as much as I want to examine you, I think it's better if we get you to the hospital first," the doctor explained. "Mrs. Carter was quite concerned as she thought you were feverish?"_

_Maggie was looking rather wan and she nodded her head once. She was wrapped in her coat, assorted blankets and she was noticeably shivering. _

"_Gentlemen," Mansfield ordered four husky boys that were carrying a modified chair of some sorts, "You'll carry Mrs. Hammond to the vehicle. Lieutenant, please get into the vehicle as you'll be sitting next to your wife, I'll bring your daughter out."_

_Jocelyn was wrapped inside one of Jake's old thermal underwear shirts, lying inside a straw laundry basket. There were two hot water bottles in there, plus assorted blankets, and to George's surprise as it was a brisk 10 degrees outside; Mansfield was taking off his jacket. The General placed it carefully over the basket, and then picked the basket up easily._

"_Mrs. Carter, thank you for bringing this situation to my attention. You can rest assured that I will be following up on that personnel issue as I am **not** pleased to hear about their behavior," Mansfield rumbled. _

_Later on at the hospital, after Mansfield had reclaimed his jacket and Maggie and Jocelyn had been admitted, the General gestured to George. It was only the two of them in the waiting room, so George approached warily and the General gave him a long look over._

"_So you're the transfer from Cheyenne, eh?" Mansfield questioned. "I did a lot of reading on you and what supposedly happened there."_

"_Yes, Sir, I am", George admitted cautiously, but refusing to defend himself. Defending himself would just make him look guiltier than he already did, so he just looked the General in the eyes._

_Mansfield gave him another long look, and then nodded his head in approval over whatever he saw in George's eyes. _

"_You're from Texas aren't you, son? I'm from the Ozarks myself, a hop, skip and a jump from where good old Harry S was born. Got an old saying back on the farm. Shit rolls down hill, and it splatters something fierce. Their entire report sounded like someone fucked up something fierce and was trying to cover their ass. Did you ever read that report, son?"_

"_No, sir. I did have several parts of it read to me, Sir," George admitted. _

"_And what did you think of it?"_

_George pondered for a moment, knowing that this was a test and he mentally sighed. "I understood how someone might view what happened that way."_

"_I thought you were a flyer, not a pansy assed diplomat, Lieutenant. I'm asking you did you agree with what was said about you in the report? The Major was pretty insistent that it was the convoy that was at fault for the escape."_

_George just swallowed and instinctively he touch his wallet, with that folded piece of paper with those times and dates he had copied down on it along with the request for him to help them. He hadn't been able to put that vital information someplace safe yet, and so he was carrying it with him._

"_Well, son?"_

"_Sir, I beg your pardon, Sir, but I know that you want me to say one thing or the other, but right now, I'm too tired to think straight. My wife and I haven't been on base for a week yet, and we're not even unpacked. The doctor told us that my wife wasn't gonna have our baby for another two weeks or so, and… we didn't even know the Carters until we moved up here. Viviane met my wife in the PX the other day, and invited her to dinner."_

_George paused and Mansfield nodded his head._

"_Sir, thank you for getting my wife and daughter to the hospital. That's all I can think about right now, and…" George paused, and he rubbed his aching head. "I'm just so appreciative, Sir."_

"_You've got to learn something boy," the General drawled. "As General, I take care of my own here. Even if you are a grade A fuckup, I will take care of you. And if something goes to hell, and it's my fault, I will look you in the eyes and tell you that. The buck stops here and will go no further. I expect all my officers to understand that. If you can't understand that, then you better hope your three years here go by awfully quick."_

_

* * *

_

"I don't know the symbol for here," Samantha Carter mumbled to herself. "But let's see if I can get the DHD up and running."

She punched in the symbols for earth, the DHD flickering slightly and then she paused. Her instincts focused on one particular symbol and she hit it. Well, if she was wrong, there were only 30 odd more combinations to try.

**_No_**.

General Hammond had sounded extremely convincing about his faith in her getting them home. But a GYPSY?

_**A GYPSY? **_

She could do it.

She **_would_** do it!

_**SHE WAS A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH! **_

_**SHE WAS WOMAN! HEAR HER AND ALL HER MANY DEGREES IN ASTROPHYSICS ROAR!**_

_**ROOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!**_

The DHD, uncaring of whatever positive thoughts George Hammond and Captain Carter might have on the two of them leaving this planet, decided that it wasn't having any of that crap. The light sputtered on the DHD and went out.

"Ok, that didn't combination didn't work," Samantha announced to herself. "Let's try this one…"

She touched the keypad, and the DHD failed to reinitialize.

Samantha Carter pressed the symbol harder and then leaned all her weight on it when it failed to light up. The keypad remain unlit.

"It's not working at all," she whispered. 'It's not working at all."

* * *

George peered carefully over the rim of the valley the gate was in, trying not to make too much noise. Keeping one eye on Samantha Carter, he peered downward at the village below. Not liking what he thought he was seeing, George pulled his binoculars out and began looking first one way, then another. As far as his eye could see, there was nothing but carnage, death and destruction. 

The houses had been destroyed through explosions and fire, and there were only a few walls that remained upright. The worst part was the large pile of bodies in the middle of the village. Not bodies really, but skeletons… which meant whatever brutality had happened here, it had happened several seasons ago. No... probably more than a year... based on the decomposition of the skeletons... the growth of grass in the residental areas.

He saw something…a wall on something that might have once been the biggest building in the town.

A meeting place or a government center.

There were two symbols on the wall and his blood froze when he recognized them.

"No… no… George… this ain't looking good," he said softly. "Captain Carter better have that gate running."

He slid back down the valley, trying not to make too much noise, but realizing that the amount of devastation he had bore witness to said that the conquerors had just concentrated on destroying all that had opposed them.

They were probably long gone.

They had scorched the Earth, salted the wells and burned their victims… making the planet inhospitable and barren. Those that had opposed them had been slaughtered.

_**Oh God damn it, please let them be long gone.**_

His brilliant idea about going off world had landed him and his junior officer in a whole mess of trouble on a planet that used to be Ra's… but which was now under the control of Apophis.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU. In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

WIP

* * *

Captain Carter didn't look very confident when he returned to the DHD. 

"Captain, please tell me that you can get us offworld," he requested.

Her face fell, literally and he bit back a curse. George knew that he was cursing a bit too much since he went on this three hour cruise and that he needed to keep a firm eye on his tongue. General weren't supposed to curse, at least **_not_** in front of their junior officers. The senior NCOs, **_hell_** yes, but not the J.O.s.

"I can't, Sir. The DHD isn't reinitializing. Did you see anything?"

"Captain, we need to get off this world immediately," George told her bluntly. "This planet used to be Ra's, and it appears that after Colonel O'Neill created a power vacuum among the System Lords, Apophis decided to pay a visit. Over the rim, I saw what used to be a village. Now, it… makes the Massacre at Hue look like child's play. There doesn't look like there is anyone within miles of the Gate, but I don't want to be proven wrong."

The blonde nodded her head in agreement.

"What is your problem with the DHD?" George questioned.

"I tried dialing Earth, and I just arbitrarily picked our point of origin. On a hunch," Captain Carter admitted slowly. "For a moment, I thought it might have connected, but it won't reset."

"I imagine that the Al'kesh fired on the gate while we were leaving," Hammond commented.

"The blast must have disrupted the wormhole, which in turn, could have fried the gate at the SGC," Carter continued.

"On top of that good news, I'm predicting snow, and lots of it," George informed her shortly. "Do you think you can fix the gate within the next hour?"

"Sir, it depends on what the problem is," Carter answered. While she wanted to be positive, she also knew that she had to be truthful.

"Very well, you crack open the DHD, see what you can ascertain," George decided. "I'll break into that building over there and see if it will qualify for shelter."

* * *

Snow. 

She had been vainly attempting to ignore the brisk wind that was blowing from wherever… but General Hammond's prediction of a hell of a lot of snow just made the wind blow that much colder. She was wearing her light weight jacket, and Samantha couldn't help but shiver.

She turned to the DHD, and she was examining it meticulously when she felt Hammond's jacket hit her.

"Wear it, Captain," he ordered tersely. "You're turning blue in front of me. In my utility vest, I have a roll of duct tape and my leatherman."

"Duct tape, Sir?" Samantha questioned. "You expect me to fix with DHD with duct tape?"

"Captain, you haven't heard that old saying, 'To err is human. To repair with Duct Tape, **_divine'_**?" Hammond quoted in his rather distinctive drawl. "Here's your change to prove your divinity to your CO."

Least she was forewarned before he tossed his vest at her, so she could catch it. Hammond had a hell of lot more in his vest than just duct tape and his leatherman, a souped up version of the swiss army knife, as the vest weighed a good twenty pounds.

"Keep an eye out for hostiles and wild animals," the General reminded her. "I'll report back on what I find in the building. I'm hoping it's a guardhouse of some sort, which could mean supplies and some form of heat."

She wanted to be strong, prove that she was worthy of being in "this man's Air Force" and protest that he could keep his jacket, but the General stomped on her objection thoroughly before she could even give it voice.

"Captain, I'm part Grizzly bear. I already have a nice layer of padding over my old bones as I was planning on locking the door to my office next week and hibernating for the next couple months," he informed her. "The cold won't bother me for a while."

It took all of her willpower, but she didn't crack a smile at the comment. Instead, she wondered about the thaw occurring in her CO.

* * *

Samantha Carter's lips were turning a lovely shade of blue which accented her blue eyes. When he looked at Samantha, he saw **_VIV_**. A freezing Viviane Carter, no less, so he threw his jacket at her and lied, claiming he was part-grizzly bear and he already had a nice layer covering his old bones, as he was planning on hibernating in his office one day next week. 

The jacket donated, and Captain Carter was looking a tad ludicrous as she was literally swimming in a sea of camouflage but at least she had stopped trembling from the cold. He owed Jake Carter's daughter that much, if not a hell of a lot more.

"The leatherman's a gift from my granddaughters, I expect it **_back_**," he stressed. "It's got pliers, wire cutters, crimpers, wire strippers, a couple screw drivers, files and an awl punch. It's in the lower left pocket. The duct tape should be in the same pocket. If we're still here in a bit, we'll need to take an inventory of what we have. I have a couple power bars in the right pocket, as I didn't get a chance to eat before we left. So between that and the MRE I didn't have for lunch, we should have food for a couple days. Water will be another issue, but we can melt snow for drinking water."

"Sir? I hope to get you home in time for you to call your grandchildren," Captain Carter offered that slowly.

George looked at his watch, and then smiled slightly. It was a bittersweet smile, he guessed, as it was tinged with old memories that still rubbed him raw when he looked at them too closely. How many times, had he promised he'd be there for his wife and kids and then… the phone would ring, the unit would be mobilized…

"You've got ninety minutes, Captain. I hope you can do it, but if you can't, it's not the first time I've had to disappoint my family due to the military."

He then strode toward the stone building, trying his hardest not to recall how many times the military had played havoc with his personal life and how being a general had just **_increased_** the intrusions.

"Walt, I'm glad you're there. You'll know what has to be done if I don't get back to the base…" George murmured out loud. "Smartest damn thing was getting you and Siler involved with the program. Just keep O'Neill **_focused_**, Walt. You see right to heart of the matter, and hopefully, you can keep him in line."

_He was home later than he wanted to be, and he sighed. His best intentions on getting out early to spend time with Maggie hadn't worked today as all hell had broken loose. It was near 7 PM, and he was at last pulling into his driveway. Julia's car was still there and he sighed. Julia had three kids at home and she was only supposed to work until 4:30._

_Julia was a godsend and a breast cancer survivor. Maggie's oncologist had suggested that Maggie join a support group and as a newbie, she had been paired with Julia, a self-described purple heart veteran of numerous rounds of chemo, whose cancer was currently in remission. Julia was in her late thirty somethings, vivacious, funny and her clipped hair was the soft, baby fine down of new hair. The two women had promptly become inseparable regardless of the age differences, and he had cautiously felt out Julia about being Maggie's paid companion during the times that he just couldn't get out of his office. _

_His Exec, Hank Landry, was juggling George's schedule as best he could, but sometimes, sometimes, George had to miss a chemo treatment. _

_Julia had refused the money originally, until he had put his size 13 foot down firmly and he had started handing her the money in a white envelope every Friday afternoon. Three kids, her husband probably in the military as she acted like a military wife though Julia would never admit that she was even when he asked her pointblank; he knew that a little money under the table would be useful. _

_One day Julia cornered him and decided that **he** needed help. It was just his luck that he was home earlier than his norm and Maggie was sleeping soundly, so that meant there was no escape from the woman he had nicknamed Hurricane Julia._

_He was pouring a glass of lemonade, wanting to savor it after a long, hellish day at the office, when Hurricane Julia swept into the kitchen. The eye of the hurricane focused on him and then decided that he was in need of her help. _

"_George? Do you actually talk to **anybody**?" _

_The question was so simple, yet he had a hard time telling her that he didn't talk to anybody as he was too busy trying to be Maggie's Rock of Gibraltar and all around cheerleader. He had to be strong and he had to be positive, even when Maggie was puking her guts up or crying because she was scared. _

_But it was only a matter of time before the support group had roped him into being buddy-buddy with someone, and maybe it wouldn't be too bad talking to Julia's husband. And so somehow he found himself being partnered with Julia's husband, MSgt. Walt Davis, the resident computer guru under his command. He had been startled to realize that Julia was Walt's wife, and Walt had been flabbergasted to realized that the Maggie Julia was partnered with was in fact his CO's wife._

_And so Hank, knowing that he had no real choice in the matter, had smiled brightly, and began squeezing in a weekly, hour long meeting between Walt and George into George's painfully tight schedule._

_Walt was a good man, even though George had to order him to call him "George" rather than "General" during their chat sessions, as they were just two men whose spouses had breast cancer commiserating about the highs and lows they were experiencing. As Walt had been living with the diagnosis for the past three years, he took the lead in their conversations, while George, being the rookie, just had to follow. _

_This past week during their chat, Walt had hesitantly asked about George's sex life. George nearly swallowed his teeth and his tongue then, as he hadn't been expecting **that** question._

_It had taken him a few minutes to formulate a reply. His face was burning, and so was Walt's, so he knew that this question had been asked because it had to be asked, rather than because Walt was a bit too curious about the Ole Man in bed._

"_It's **important**, Sir…" Walt explained._

"_**George**…" George reminded him. "If you're gonna talk to me about me and my wife's sex life, you better call me George."_

_Walt nodded his head once, in agreement._

"_George, I don't mean to embarrass you, but it's important that you and your wife still emotionally connect. The oncologists don't really ever mention this part of your lives. They're too busy nuking the cancer with the equivalent of an A-Bomb on the cellular level to worry about this part."_

_George pondered Walt's question for a bit, and then he figured, why the hell not, he might as well just tell the boy the truth. _

"_Our sex life is non-existent, Walt. We cuddle and we kiss, and that will have make do for now. If and when my wife wants to make love, she'll let me know. But I'm not gonna pressure her. When she's ready, willing and comfortable to make love, Maggie will let me know."_

"_She might be afraid of your reaction to her mastectomy scar," Walter suggested softly._

"_I've seen it," George growled. "I changed her surgical dressings; I emptied her drains, I help her dress when she's so weak she can't, so I can assure you that I've **seen** it."_

_Walter gave him a slight smile and nodded his head._

"_George, I know, but I also know that I had to make the first move with Julia as she was more scared about my reaction than she was about the cancer."_

"_We've been together for almost forty years, Walt. I knew her back when she just one of the boys hanging out after school. We were ten years old, Walt, and even then I knew that I wanted to grow old with her. It just took me a few years to convince her that I was worth it and to go steady with me. I made that decision that she was the one, before she developed, and breasts, or no breasts, my feelings toward her aren't changing. How fickle do you think I am? She's stayed with me even though as I'm almost as bald as a cue ball, Walt. Lust fades in time, Walt, but love and desire are eternal."_

"_George… have you told her this?" Walt questioned intently._

_Obviously, he was missing something, and Walt was too damn military indoctrinated to tell his CO that he was being a complete ass and not seeing the forest for the damn oak tree. _

"_I tell her she's the same woman I married," George explained. "I don't press too far. I don't want her to think that we've **got** to make love. She's got to want it also, and I'm doing things at her speed."_

"_Sometimes…. Sometimes… you need to press the issue, George. She may think you're rejecting her because she's physically undesirable…"_

"_She's **not**!" George protested. "The one good thing about this disease is that it's made me realize hair or not hair, two breasts or one breast, surgical scar or not, she is the **only** woman that I will ever love and the only woman that I will ever desire."_

"_And you don't want to ask her because you think she's still weak from the chemo. That emotional schism starts so small, often times because the two people involved are so overly considerate of the other one's feelings, and soon there's no way to cross that gap, George."_

"_You've got to talk to her, George, and let her know that you want to be intimate with her," Walt explained. _

_He had requested that Walt leave right after that comment, as he needed to be alone to decompress for a bit. Try as he would to avoid facing the facts, Maggie's cancer was raging fast and furious in her body, and he was worried about squandering whatever all too precious time he had left with her. He should retire; he **would** retire, except he was destined to meet with a certain Captain Carter. _

_Then when his demeanor was a little more composed, he picked up the phone and dialed an old friend._

"_Jacob? It's George Hammond, how the hell are you doing? How's Mark? How's that daughter of yours? Has she made General yet?"_

_After the conversation had ended, and he had confirmed that Samantha Carter was still a lieutenant and had years to go before she could be even considered to be commissioned as a Captain in the USAF, he had ordered Hank to rearrange his next appointment for later that day. _

_Then he had locked the door to his office, sat down in his chair and placed his wallet on the desk to remove a small piece of paper. He had kept a copy of the note for himself all those many years ago. It was a good thing too as Captain Carter had grabbed the original note before she high tailed it out of his life. His copy had been folded and refolded for so often over the years that it has long since disintegrated and even its replacement's replacement had been replaced._

"_You better be worth it, damn it," he growled. "You better fucking be, or so help me God, I will make your lives a living hell."_

_He didn't like that anger he was feeling toward them. He knew it wasn't their fault. He could say that but he was still weary of the burden._

_Over the years, that responsibility just kept getting heavier and heavier. That mental obligation, that promise he had made, was always present, weighing on his soul, guiding every decision he made and would make for years to come._

_But for now, he needed to take every opportunity that was left to him, so George reached for the phone, his heart skipping a beat. His fingers punched in the familiar number and he waited for the phone to be answered._

"_Hello?" Maggie answered in a very wheezy voice. She must have run to answer the phone as she sounded slightly out of breath and breathless. It had been far too long since he had called Maggie for a little heavy breathing, and he felt like being a very dirty ole man. _

_He put his long legs up on his desk. _

"_What are you wearing?" He growled in a very soft voice. _

"_Is this an obscene phone call?" His wife questioned, even though her tone of voice had lightened, which meant that she knew who he was. "I must assure you that my husband will find out who you are and beat you to a bloody pulp. He's exceeding good with his hands."_

"_I've been having the most…" George paused and then gave a rather throaty growl. "Illict fantasies about you, Ma'am."_

"_Really?" Maggie questioned. "Ma'am? Am I your mother?"_

"_No, I'd never confuse you with my mother, as you're wearing something silky…and I want to get you out of it so bad," he rumbled. "Definitely not my mother as she only wore flannels to bed."_

"_I pride myself on never having own a pair of flannel pajamas. I only wear lace and silk," Maggie purred. _

"_Do you now?" George questioned. "Your poor husband, you must drive him insane with desire."_

_Maggie paused and her voice trembled slightly when she answered._

"_He doesn't touch me like that anymore…" she whispered softly. "Ever since I got sick and they…" Her voice cracked, "They had to remove my breast…my husband doesn't touch me like that."_

_George spun around in his chair and put his feet solidly on the ground. He rested his elbow on the table and he tried to find something to say._

"_I'm sure he wants to," he whispered, trying to hide the tremor in his own voice. "He probably desires you very, very much but he knows you've been sick…and he doesn't want you to feel obligated…"_

_God, he was such a coward, as he was talking about himself in the third tense. Yet it was a way for him to say what he felt… so… it was better than saying nothing at all. _

"_I miss him so," Maggie whispered. "You think he still wants me **that** way?"_

"_I know he does," George assured her. "In fact, it's damn good thing that he's married to you, because a man who looks on a woman with lust has in his heart already committed adultery. You're the only thing that saving his eternal soul right now, Maggie Mae, else he'd be breaking that commandment right and left, up and down. Lust… is a **shameful** sin, and he should be **ashamed** of those illicit thoughts he has about you."_

"_I've heard that said, but there ain't no shame in our loving," Maggie stated unequivocally. _

"_There ain't no shame in loving, darling, I know you taught him that," George assured her. _

"_He tries so hard to keep a positive outlook," his wife explained. "He's trying so hard to be brave and strong for me that I don't want to add even the slightest more to his load."_

"_He's got broad shoulders," he insisted. "How about this? You tell me everything you want your husband to know… and I'll make sure he knows how you feel."_

_Long pause, and George was about to say something when Maggie spoke softly._

"_Do you think you could tell him that I miss him?"_

"_I could, and I will, dear," he promised. "You know, you should really tell your husband these things, rather than your local obscene phone caller."_

_He rubbed his eyes, and whispered a prayer that he was strong enough for this conversation. God, he just wanted nothing more than to break down and sob. _

"_I know… but I don't want him to think that I'm nagging him. He's so good to me, as he loves to cuddle and kiss me. You don't know how much that means to me…when the two of us cuddle together on the couch, but he **must** know how much his sweet affection means to me… that it reassures me that he still wants to be close to me… but I want… I **need**… more…"_

"_Well, you tell me what you're too afraid to tell your husband, and… well… I'll make sure that he knows," George offered again softly._

"_I miss him. I… I miss hearing him… say my name… **that** way… after he comes. He says it so soft and gentle, and he makes me feel so special…You have no idea what it's like, to be in the arms of the man you love and he calls out your name so soft and so sweet.. At that moment… because you know… at that split second… you're **everything** to him….."_

"_Maggie…" he breathed her name softly. _

"_Like that…" she whispered. "How I miss that."_

"_Oh, Maggggie," he repeated slowly. "Maggie, my beautiful, beautiful Maggie."_

"_I have to tell you something, and I hope I don't embarrass you." Maggie's voice was barely more than a low whisper. _

"_Maggie, I'm the obscene phone caller, shouldn't I be the one embarrassing you?" He teased._

"_I so miss… making love with my husband. Would you tell him that we can keep the lights off in our bedroom?" Maggie questioned._

"_I think he'd want the lights on, dear. Making love ain't nothing to be ashamed of, remember?" George reminded her gently. "Even at our age, Maggie, though I have to admit that your husband has gotten rather solid around the equator…"_

"_It's not that," Maggie stated._

_Oh God, she was crying._

"_I've got this ugly, **ugly** scar…It's so repulsive. I don't blame him…that he's no longer interested… in me…"_

"_Listen to me," George began, before he heard Hank knocking on the door. Loudly. "Dear, give me just a moment please?_

_He put her on hold. _

"_HANK! I'm on the phone," he roared. "Unless it's the President of the U. S. of A standing next to you, tell them to wait until I'm off the phone! And if it is the President, **ASK HIM TO TAKE A SEAT**!"_

_He picked up the phone and took her off hold. He swallowed quickly, wanting to keep his voice from shaking._

"_Darling, listen to me. I have a prediction to make. Your husband's gonna come home early today from work. He's gonna have flowers and when he sees you, he's gonna pick you and kiss you so hard, you'll be breathless. Your toes are gonna curl, girl. And then he's gonna carry to your bedroom, and then, with the lights on, you two are gonna make love for the **entire** evening, or else he's gonna die in the attempt. Those lights will on, girl. I **swear** to you that they will be."_

_And so he had promised, before all hell had broken lose and everything had gone to hell so damn fast. Half the computer system went down during the upgrade and it wouldn't come up for all the tea in China, all the rice in India and all the damn coke in Columbia. _

_And as time slowly ticked by, he grew angrier as he was gonna break another promise to Maggie._

_Finally he had enough. _

"_Sgt. Davis," he growled. "A moment in my office, Sgt."_

"_Sir?" Walter asked when they were inside the safety of George's office._

"_I made a **date** with my wife for this afternoon, Sgt, based on your helpful suggestion. I **trust** you're doing everything in your power to get that computer system back online, as I do not want to disappoint my wife."_

_Davis looked at him and George growled again when Davis' face fell._

"_You have permission to speak freely, Sgt," George assured him._

"_Sir, there's no way I can get that computer system back online before this evening. I'm rewiring and rerouting everything, Sir," Davis explained._

"_There is **NO WAY**?" George questioned. "What happened to your **can-do** attitude?"_

"_Sir, I'm not going to get your hopes up. I can't do that to you, Sir, and I can't do that to your wife," Davis looked sincere and he shook his head. "Believe me, if I could, I would do everything in my power to get that computer system online. But the only way it'll happen, is if the Pentagon gives us a complete new system."_

"_Fuck," George swore, ignoring Walter Davis' look of surprise._

_He dismissed Walter and then he dialed his wife._

"_Hello," he said. "Maggie…"_

"_It's my obscene phone caller again! What can we talk about now? Can we talk really, really dirty?"_

_Her voice was upbeat and cheerful._

"_I really want to be in the mood when my husband gets home. He should be home soon…I keep peering out the window, and hoping that I see his pick up truck pulling into our driveway. When you see him, tell him that I'm **not** wearing flannel." _

"_Maggie…" He repeated her name again._

"_My husband won't be home early, will he?" _

_Maggie's voice, formerly so vibrant and joyful, turned gray and lifeless. _

"_There's been a problem with the computer upgrade, darling."_

"_When do you think he'll be home?"_

"_Later. Maybe seven or so," he admitted. "I know he'll still want to make love as he's been thinking about nothing else all blessed day."_

"_That'll be nice," Maggie agreed._

"_You alright? You sound a little down," George questioned, the pretense shot to heck. "I'm so sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. I **promised** you that I'd be home early…"_

"_I'm actually… a little tired… so I might be sleeping when you finally get home. Sometimes, I just get so tired all of a sudden. It's like my batteries get depleted. I need to recharge."_

"_Maggie… I was really looking forward to tonight. I've missed you so much…" He pleaded. "Why don't you go lie down and…maybe… maybe… you'll be rested by the time I'm home?"_

"_George… go back to the computers. I'll lie down and… we'll see how I'm feeling," Maggie's voice didn't sound very promising. _

"_Maggie… I so miss making love with you," George whispered. 'It's all I've been thinking about since we spoke earlier today."_

"_I'm sorry, George…. It's the chemo; it just knocks me for a loop. You've been so patient with the fact that I haven't have been in the mood the last few months…" Maggie's voice slowed. "I'll take a nap… and when you come home… I'll try…and be in the mood."_

"_Maggie?" George questioned. "Darling, you don't have to try and force yourself to be in the mood. I understand that you're tired and I'm gonna be home late from work. You got to bed, dear, and… I'll sleep on the couch when I get home. That way you get a full night's sleep as I won't disturb you with my snoring."_

_They said their goodbyes and George grabbed the telephone book. He found a florist and he picked up the phone._

"_I need three dozens red roses and three dozen white roses," he told the flustered clerk that answered the phone. "And I need them delivered within the next hour. This is the note that you'll put on the card for the red roses. 'For our thirty six years we've been together' and on the white roses, the message will be, 'for our next thirty six years together'._

_The clerk began protesting and George finally had enough._

"_My wife has breast cancer. She is having a rough time with her chemotherapy. She is the world to me, and if you can't get those flowers to her, you will find me a florist that will. I don't give a damn how much it's gonna cost."_

* * *

Samantha sat down next to the DHD, and then she pulled Hammond's vest over her lap. 

"Leatherman, leatherman… left pocket," she spoke out loud, before slipping her hand into the pocket and rummaging through it.

She pulled out the heavy duty utility tool, candidly admiring it as the Leatherman was the top of line model, before remembering regretfully that she had promised that she'd give it back to her CO. Then Samantha reached back into the pocket for the duct tape.

"A true leader always has duct tape," Samantha laughed after she quoted her father. "Duct tape is like the Force; it has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the universe together."

Her fingers felt something else, and she pulled that out also.

"If I have to make inventory, I should know what's in his pockets," she decided, trying to squelch that icky feeling of rummaging through the General's pockets.

It was a small leather journal, maybe four inches by five. The soft leather was well worn as though Hammond had used the journal for years, and the leather was embossed with his initials. Sam looked for Hammond, found that the General was busy working on the door, and she opened the journal.

On this inside flap, someone had written, "G. With this, know that I'm with you always, M. Christmas 1964"

The journal refill was half used, it appeared, full of Hammond's scribbled handwriting and assorted drawings. Her eyes glanced at the first entry.

**_March 1997 _**

_**Maggie just a few more weeks until I retire.**_

**_As you can see, still keeping the journal up even though you aren't around to read it. Old habits die hard, I've been writing in this from the day you gave it to me, and I haven't stopped just because you're no longer here though I admit that it took me a while to start writing again after you got called home. It's probably a good thing that I'm still writing as some book company approached me to write a book about what I've seen, what I've done. Don't really need the money, but maybe it could help pay for Kayla and Tessa's college education. _**

_**Isn't that funny, girl?**_

**_I can hear you laughing, and saying, "But George, you're just so damn boring! Who'd want to pay money to read your rambling?"_**

**_The powers that be gave me an easy, coasting assignment to retirement, a bone for this loyal, old dog._**

**_Can't tell you what I'm doing, as it's Super Top Secret, darling. You need a clearance ranking just under Michael the Archangel to even hear a whisper. _**

**_But you'd have liked it here, as the girls live real close, so I can see them real regular-like. Making up for all that time I missed when they were younger and I spoil our granddaughters rotten. _**

**_And in honor of my new and thankfully FINAL assignment, I put a new realm of paper in the journal you gave me for our first Christmas together._**

**_You're laughing again, I know it, 'cuz I'm back in Cheyenne again. My life's a circle, darling. _**

**_All my life's a circle; Sunrise and sundown;  
Moon rolls thru the nighttime; Till the daybreak comes around.  
All my life's a circle; But I can't tell you why;  
Season's spinning round again; The years keep rollin' by.  
No straight lines make up my life; And all my roads have bends;  
There's no clear-cut beginnings; And so far no dead-ends._**

**_Our love was like a circle;  
How I wish I could go 'round one more time with you._**

**_But every day I go to work, I think how I'm one step closer to an empty retirement where you aren't growing old with me. I should have retired years ago… while you were still alive. But all I've got now is time… a hell of a lot of empty time with no one to share it with._**

**_All I got is time, Nothing else is mine.  
All I want is you and one more tomorrow.  
Nothing lasts to long, When I leave it's gone.  
So I send my mind ahead and hope to follow._**

_**Yes, I know I have a lifetime coming,  
But I've got it all figured out,  
Everybody's lonely, Everybody's lonely,  
Everybody's lonely, That's what it's all about.**_

**_I've had my share of heartaches, misfortune and mistakes.  
Occasion'ly this life has left me battered.  
But I can't blame no one else, 'cause what I've done to myself  
is the only kind of history that matters._**

**_But I can't blame no one else, 'cause what I've done to myself is the only kind of history that matters. Girl, that's the god-honest truth and every day when I look at myself in the mirror, I remind myself of that simple truth. _**

Sam wretched her eyes away from the journal, as Hammond's grief-tinged writings were far too personal for her to comfortably read.

There was a folded piece of paper that looked as though it had been folded and refolded numerous times, and there were two pictures. One was of the General with his children and grandchildren, it looked identical to the one he had on his desk, and the second one was a picture of Hammond **_kissing_** another bald man.

Wait a minute!

No, the bald man was **_actually_** a woman, as the woman, who was **_sitting_** in Hammond's lap, was wearing a dress. In one hand, the woman was holding mistletoe over George's head and the two of them were rather energetically kissing.

Samantha, feeling like a peeping tom, no, a voyeur of the worst sort who was rummaging through another soul's misery just for their own personal kicks, flipped the photo over.

She was getting close to understanding Hammond. Maybe this would be the final key?

"Mom and Dad Christmas 1992. Mom's last Christmas" was written on the back. Underneath the photo was the names Maggie and George Hammond.

Hammond had an easy rapport with the Chevron Guy, Walt Davis and Sly Siler.

When the SGC had been activated, the enigma known as Hammond had requested these two men be assigned, and both men had **_jumped_** at the chance to work with Hammond again.

In fact, she remember that she had overheard Davis telling a tall tale about how Hammond had gone toe to toe with the Join Chiefs of Staff to take care of his one of his subordinates.

It **_had_** to be a lie, there was no way Hammond would have actually… there was no other word to adequately describe what Hammond had allegedly done except **_blackmail_**… yes, Hammond had allegedly **_blackmailed_** a superior with the completely perplexing comment about a duck, some tar and a mule!

The benevolence was a direct contradiction of the man her CO appeared to be! The fact he'd actually **_blackmail_** someone that high up on the food chain to protect an **_airman_**?

And yet, he had thrown his jacket at her when he noticed she was shivering.

Then why the aloofness toward SG1?

Her father's personality had changed radically after her mom had died.

The barely remembered carefree Jake Carter had turned more demanding and yet increasing aloof from his children. It wasn't that her father had stopped caring about Sam and her brother, but that the experience of losing his wife had left with him with a mountain of grief and guilt that had tempered every interaction with his kids.

All those years, her father had kept her at arm's length…

If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that Hammond was acting the same way, except for the fact that 'his kids' were the members of SG-1.

But how could the death of Maggie Hammond from **_CANCER_** be linked to the members of SG1?

She slipped the photo back into the journal and stuffed it back into his vest. Carefully she opened the Leatherman, and decided which tool to use.

Hopefully, she could get the DHD working.

* * *

Colonel O'Neill strode down the hallway with the much shorter Sgt. Davis almost running to keep up with him. 

"Sir!" Davis protested.

"I'm calling Ryan now," O'Neill informed him. "I'll talk to you after I speak to Ryan."

O'Neill entered Hammond's office and then he closed the door on the flustered sergeant with a stern, "I'm calling Ryan in **_PRIVATE_**!"

Then O'Neill sank into Hammond's chair. It was a **_nice_** chair, O'Neill noticed immediately. It was a fancy chair, with burgundy leather that cradled his weary and sore legs tired after a twenty mile sprint through the woods, a lumbar support that cushioned his aching back just so… complete with a three way adjusting lever, sitting behind a really **_nice_** mahogany desk complete with a picture of Hammond, two women, two men and two little girls and another picture of very young Hammond and a dark haired woman.

"Family photo, George?" O'Neill questioned as he picked up the photo with the children. He glanced quickly at the other picture. "My God, you **_did_** have hair at one time."

Experimentally, he swung around in George's chair, wondering if the Chair o' Power did indeed swivel. To his delight it did, and he swung around, wondering what The Man's reaction would be if he had witnessed Jack doing circles in his chair.

Steam would have been coming out of his ears, Jack thought.

Hammond's face would have been cherry red… and so for good measure, he circled in the chair once again.

He reached for the phone, hit 1 on the speed dial, trying not to smile when he saw that the President was the only name listed on the speed dial and located in the #2 position at that, and O'Neill mentally prepared himself to make his report of, "We lost General Hammond" to Ryan.

Might as well get it over with.

He took a deep breath, and swung around again while the phone rang.

To his surprise, he got a little girl on the phone.

"Grandpa?" The high voice said in delight. "Tessa! It's **_Grandpa_**! He called **_early_**!"

Grandpa?

**_FUCK_**!

He had called The Man's grandkids.

The Man had his **_GRANDKIDS_** under #1 on the Speed Dial!

_**Ahead of the President! **_

Ahead of **_Ryan_**!

The shock caused him to nearly tumble ass over tit out of the chair and only with the startled squawk akin to a duck being shot was he able to keep himself in the Chair o' Power. As it was, he dropped the phone with a muffled curse. He picked it up quickly, hoping that The Man's Grandkids had not learned anything new linguistically thanks to him.

"Hi," Jack said slowly. "I think I have the **_wrong_** number."

"You're not Grandpa!" The voice said with some annoyance. "Mommy! Someone's calling from grandpa's phone and it's **_not_** him!"

There was a brief scuffle and an older female voice got on the line before tersely ordering a Tessa and a Kayla to hang up immediately.

"This is Jocelyn. What **_happened_** to my father?"

"Ma'am?" O'Neill questioned.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I am a military brat. It's never good news when somebody from the base calls the next of kin. The last time someone called from the base about my father, his plane got shot down and they didn't know where he was."

The female voice was trembling, the fear for her father's safety apparent to O'Neill.

"What happened to my father? Is he **_ok_**? Is he… **_alive_**?"

"Ma'am… this is Colonel O'Neill, I'm your father's second in command. I think we started this conversation off on the wrong foot as I wasn't expecting his grandchildren to answer the phone. I hit the wrong number on the speed dial, Ma'am. I'm using the phone in his office, and I thought this number was someone else's. I didn't realize that General Hammond had his grandchildren listed as number one on his speed dial," Jack explained.

"He always calls them at 3:30 in the afternoon. They had a half day at school today, so they thought he might call them earlier as we're leaving for a long weekend shortly," Jocelyn explained. "Now, what's going on with my father?"

"There's nothing going on with your father, Ma'am," O'Neill lied.

"Then why are you calling from my father's office? He's obviously not there if you're misdialing using his speed dial," Jocelyn questioned.

"Your father gave me permission to use his phone, Ma'am," Jack answered.

"Good, let me talk to him then," Hammond's daughter demanded.

"I'm afraid he's off base at the moment," Jack informed the daughter smoothly.

"You told me he gave you permission to use his phone," was the fast retort.

"I spoke to him on the phone," Jack explained, wondering when the phone had turned into the Hammond…err… Spanish Inquisition. "He's not in his office right now."

Long pause on the phone, and Jack tried not to sigh, as it appeared that part of what made George The Man had been inherited by his daughter. Yes, the ability to tell when someone was fudging the truth appeared to be genetic, unless, it was part and parcel of being a parent. He had always known when…

Stop that, he growled at himself, as he didn't want to think about those few times Charlie had lied to him….

"Ok, then tell Dad, I want to speak to him before we leave today, and I won't leave until he calls me," Jocelyn decided.

"When I see the General, I will give him the message first thing," Jack assured Hammond's daughter easily.

They exchange their goodbyes and then he hung up the phone. Growling, he got out of the Chair o' Power and opened the door to search for that snarky sergeant that probably knew who rated where on Hammond's speed dial. Out of his peripheral visions, he saw a rather nervous looking Sgt. Davis standing nearby.

"Sir," Davis began slowly, in a tone of voice usually reserved for a soap opera when the doctor intones, 'We regret to inform you'.

"Number one on the speed dial is his **_GRANDKIDS_**, right?" O'Neill snapped.

"Yes, Sir," Davis said in a please don't kill the messenger tone, completed with a fixed 'Bambi in the headlights of an oncoming speeding Mach Truck' smile on his face. "I tried to tell you, Sir. I truly did so. Ryan's number four on the speed dial."

"Four?" O'Neill quipped. "Pray tell, who is number three? Joe's Pizza?"

"His other daughter," the sergeant explained. "May I speak to you, sir, before you call General Ryan to advise him of the current situation? It's rather important."

"More important then telling me who's who on his speed dial?" Jack questioned.

The sergeant's fixed smile flickered slightly, and in fact, he looked rather queasy.

"That bad?" O'Neill questioned. "Let's get into his office."

It was only after Davis was securely in the office, and the heavy door closed behind him, did the sergeant drop the latest bomb into the lap of one Jonathan J. O'Neill.

"Sir, before you call General Ryan, you should know that General Hammond may not have permission to be off world. In fact, Sir, General Ryan specifically forbade General Hammond from going off world without his express permission. That order came down yesterday, Sir."

"Major General George S. Hammond is **_AWOL_**?" O'Neill questioned, his voice conveying his disbelief.

Jack couldn't help it; the very idea that Hammond had gone offworld without having permission!

Why it was something he **_would_** have done.

Straight laced Hammond?

By the book Hammond?

The **_MAN_**?

He had to tell General Mike Ryan that General Hammond had disobeyed his orders and had gotten lost on another world? Ryan was gonna **_love_** that.

O'Neill plopped into the no-longer quite as inviting Seat o' Power with a mighty thud and clicked his heels three times, mentally screaming, "There's no place like home! There's no place like home! THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!"

"Damn it, I'm still here," he thought, as he rubbed his aching head, before realizing that his fervent wish to be elsewhere had been given voice as the sergeant was giving him a very concerned look.

"Possibly, Sir," Davis explained. "I'm not sure…He might have gotten permission to go offworld. I just thought I should mention the possibility."

"Thank you, Sergeant, any more news that I should know?"

"No, Sir, I think that's it," Sgt. Davis answered.

* * *

Jiggling his knife just so in the keyhole of the lock, George was able to pop the lock on the small stone building. Cautiously, he swung the door open, and he was greeted by the musty odor of stale air. He sniffed the air carefully, noting that he didn't smell anything that might be spoiled, overripe slaughter akin to what he had viewed down in the village and that the air lacked the dank smell of mold, which meant that the building was probably sound and leak proof. 

He waited just a little longer, and nothing skittered out the door at him.

Even better.

Some sparse webbing from some sort of arachnoids hung from the ceiling but not that so much as to hinder his progress. Flicking his flashlight on, he peered into the dark building.

Yes, from what he could tell from the dim glow of his flashlight, it once had been a guardhouse.

Two small rooms, one being the entrance where he was, and the other was a common living area. It was small and cluttered with one small bed, a couple chairs and a table made of a hardwood that would probably burn quite hot, the windows and roof appeared to be intact, and most importantly, there **_was_** a fireplace. All in all, not too high tech, as Ra had apparently kept his people at a barely subsistent level of technology.

Carefully, he opened the cabinets. A few blankets, heavy weight, thank God, and Eureka! A metal pot of some sort… and nothing else. He had water proof matches in his vest; all they needed now was some kindling, and fuel for the fire. But it wouldn't be necessary if Captain Carter got that gate working.

"It's my fault, you're here," he whispered to himself. "I've got to you home, damn it. I promised your father that I'd take care of you. I promised Maggie that I'd keep an eye on you."

_He was standing next to a distraught Jacob Carter who was staring up at a tree._

"_I buried my wife today, I have guests in the house and my DAUGHTER has decided to climb a tree," he snapped. "She won't come down, George. She is in a goddamn tree, Hammond. A goddamn oak tree!"_

"_Jacob," Maggie took Jake's hand and pulled it toward her, so Jake stopped staring at the tree, and instead just looked at Maggie._

_Damn it, Jake looked like hell. His dark eyes were bloodshot and he didn't look like he had slept in weeks. His grief was physically painful to George, and he felt a sharp stab in his heart when he thought how easily their roles could be reversed, and how he'd be the one mourning Maggie._

"_Go talk to your parents and Viviane's parents," Maggie suggested. "George will get her out of the tree."_

"_George, she's really angry with me right now," Jake explained. "Don't be too hard on her."_

_George nodded his head, "I'll do what I can, Jake."_

"_No," Jake protested. "She's really upset right now, and she's blaming me. You're strict with your kids, George."_

"_Have to be," George rumbled. "It was the way I was raised. I don't beat them, but I don't let them get away with murder either."_

"_Maggie?" Jake questioned, obvious in looking for support in his instructions to George from her._

"_I'll handle George; you go speak to your family." Maggie assured Jake._

"_Promise me, George, you'll take good care of my daughter," Jake insisted intently. "She's **really** upset."_

"_I promise," George assured the grieving man. "I'll take care of your daughter like she was my own."_

_Jake had barely left the scene of the crime when Maggie was glaring at George. He was already removing his jacket, and so he stopped._

"_What?" He spat in a futile protest, as he knew **that** look all too well and that as sure as God made buckin' mustangs, he'd be doing whatever the hell Maggie wanted him to do.  
_

"_Get your ass up there, Georgie, and use some **TACT** with the poor child," Maggie insisted._

"_Her Mamma died, Mags. What the hell is she doing up in a goddamn tree?" George hissed quietly, not wanting to start an argument that everyone else could hear._

"_**Hiding**," Maggie explained. "What were **you** doing when my father caught you in that tree when we were sixteen years old?"_

"_Trying to prevent him from shooting me," George protested. "Your daddy was born with a gat in both hands."_

"_He didn't shoot you, he just wanted to scare the hell out of you," Maggie reminded him. "Then he came home and made sure my ass was redder than a beefsteak tomato because I had you in my bedroom, George. I couldn't sit down for a week."_

"_Well, Josh whipped me when he found out, so the two of us certainly paid the piper, though my mother thanked me for being gentlemanly enough to insist that our first time together was in your bed, rather the back of my daddy's Ford," George retorted. "I have to admit, that night was **certainly** worth the cost."_

_He gave her his best good ole boy smirk, and Maggie blushed. _

"_What I'm telling you, dear, don't go up there guns ablazin', but don't be afraid to smack her on the ass if she deserves it," his wife laughed. "Now get up there, cowboy! I can't do it as I'm wearing heels."_

_Climbing a tree in his dress blues wasn't his idea of fun, especially with the damn dress shoes. His lack of enthusiasm made his wife smile. _

"_Get up there, cowboy, and I'll remind you tonight of what you and I were doing in my bedroom that night my daddy nearly shot you."_

_He managed to get into the tree before Maggie finished her promise to relive one of the more… **educational**_…_ nights of his life… and the night her parents can home early from a trip to Houston, and had caught him in her bed. Scrambling up the tree was a little harder as he was a little thicker than he had been all those years ago and he didn't have a rather irate Johnny Perez racing after with a gat clenched tightly in each hand giving him an added incentive to run like hell, but before long he found the problem child. Samantha was sitting on a tree branch and she was weeping for all she was worth. Her blue polka-dotted dress was torn from where she had ripped it in her mad dash to her arboricultural sanctuary. _

_Gingerly, he positioned himself on a branch that was sturdy enough to hold him, yet close enough so he could grab Samantha if she decided to do something stupid and leap off the tree limb. Yeah, he'd kill himself if he tried to grab her, but he owed Jake Carter that much… and he owed Viviane far more. _

_His long legs were dangling, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt, Jake's CO was calmly sipping a cold drink and wondering about the red headed idiot who was climbing trees in his dress blues. _

"_Go away!" she wept. _

"_Girl, your father and your grandparents are having kittens right now, thanks to you. Get your ass back on the ground," he ordered._

_Well so much for tact and understanding, he thought. But sometimes, you just had to lay the cards on the table and hope for the best._

"_No," she retorted. "NO. I'm not going back down there."_

"_You're gonna make me get your ass back on the ground, girl?" _

"_I'd like to see you try," Samantha Carter retorted, her voice shaking. "You're ONE of THEM. You're **MILITARY**. The Military is why my mother's dead, so I'm not doing anything you tell me to do. I ain't an airman, just because you're a Lite Colonel doesn't mean you can order me about!"_

"_So Samantha, looks like you're not making the military your career," George drawled, while mentally wondering if the world as he knew it would unexpectedly come to a complete stop because the time line had gotten messed up. _

"_NO," she spat._

"_Fine. But if you don't get your ass back on terra firma immediately, young lady, you will regret it," he told her in no uncertain terms._

"_I'd like to see you **try**," the girl hissed. "You barely got up this tree. If I go higher up, you won't be able to follow me."_

"_You make one move to go further up this tree, Samantha Carter, I will push you off the tree limb," he assured her. "And I'll tell your father that you slipped, trying to escape from me."_

_She gifted him with a glare that would have done a basilisk__proud. After he failed to turn into stone and fall to earth, shattering in a million pieces, Samantha Carter decided to ignore him. Instead, she heartbreakingly sobbed away her frustrations and her grief._

_Reaching inside his pocket, he removed a neatly pressed handkerchief. _

"_Here," he said quietly, hoping that she'd accept it as a peace offering, "You look like you need this."_

_She shook her head, and he continued holding it out to her._

"_Take it," he insisted. _

_Finally, he had calmed her down, and the two of them were back on the terra firma. Naturally that's when the General O'Hara stopped in front of them. George tried not to notice that his dress shoes were a might scuffed, and he wasn't quite as sharp as he had been when he helped carry Viviane Carter to her final resting spot. _

"_Colonel…" The General's voice slowed, and his dark, calculating eyes glanced briefly at Samantha then at George, noting Samantha's blood shot eyes, torn dress and George's scuffed shoes, tallied the sums, carried the one and realized exactly what had happened. "You're climbing a tree in your dress blues?"_

_Samantha Carter almost flinched, as the realization that she had just broke cardinal rule # 1 of the Military Brat Handbook Thou shall NEVER bring thyself to the Attention of your Parental Units' Commanding Officer came crashing down on her weary, grieving shoulders._

"_I was rescuing her cat, Sir," he explained._

_The Carters had a mangy old tom cat that proudly carried all the weight that his many years on Earth had allowed him to earn, and then some. If the old tom needed to get in a tree, he'd need a crane or a hoist, so George mentally sent a prayer heavenwards that Viviane could help him out. Viviane was … had been smart and sassy and a firecracker to boot. George never had a glib tongue, instead pondering each word carefully before he spoke, and now he needed to tap dance for all he was worth. _

_Last thing Jake needed was his CO getting involved with Jake's family and their dysfunctional dynamics. _

"_Cat?" The General questioned._

"_He got scared by the crowd," George continued. _

_That earned a quirk of the General's tightly regimented eyebrow. _

"_I believe that the cat could have made his own way down," the General reprimanded. "You're in uniform, Colonel, and you need to remember you represent the United State Air Force…"_

"_She was worried," George explained. "Only natural, after everything she's been through."_

_The General gave him another long look, counted George's teeth, determined how few auburn hairs remained on his scalp and took a long look at the "salad" on George's chest, counting each award and duly noting them. The impression that George was a horse for sale, being examined by a buyer who firmly believed that he was getting a spavined mule for his hard earned money, was not spoiled at all by the fact George was almost a head taller than the General._

"_Where are you stationed?" O'Hara questioned._

"_Shaw Air Force Base, sir," George answered._

"_Deuce is in charge there, isn't he?" O'Hara asked. "Does he condone officers climbing trees in dress blues?"_

_**Fuck**. He knew the old man, and pretty damn well, if he knew "Deuce" was his CO's old call sign. Rumor had it that Johnson got the call sign Deuce because his flight instructor had almost given up on him. "You're never gonna be an Ace, boy. You're always gonna be a goddamn Deuce!" _

"_Sir? Brigader General William Johnson is in charge of the facility, but I don't know if that is who you believe Deuce is," George answered._

_O'Hara then turned to face Samantha and before the General could even unleash his tongue to give the visibly unnerved little girl the rough side of it, Viviane Carter arranged a divine intervention. _

"_Samantha," Maggie barged into the conversation, giving a faux smile of apology for interrupting the General's imminent tongue lashing, her voice dripping in honeyed concern. "Your grandmother Carter's looking for you, honey. Excuse me, Sir."_

_That entrance derailed the General's chain of thought and Samantha fled for the house. _

"_George," her wife cooed, before squeezing his hand. "Thank you for going after that damn cat. I know that the cat would have gotten his down in his own time, but that poor girl…"_

_Maggie turned to the General and gave him a tremulous, teary smile, "After losing her mamma like that… she was so fearful for Mr. Kitty. She begged my husband to go up there and help her get the cat out of the tree."_

_Then the General's wife entered the conversation and George slipped away to a quieter section of the yard. Maggie followed him and she put her hand on his._

"_George," she whispered in a very sultry voice, before fluttering her eyelashes at him in a very suggestive manner. "Tonight… I'll do anything you **want**, darling and for the **rest** of the week."_

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. "Stop traipsing down Memory Lane, you've got to get Jake's daughter home."

Savagely, he repressed the memories, wondering why his mind was so full of the past.

He left the room at a fast clip, not wanting to leave his junior officer alone and unprotected for too long. Maybe he could figure out what else was bothering him about the little he'd seen about the planet so far.

* * *

The only time she **_could_** remember meeting George Hammond was after her mom's funeral when she had gotten overwhelmed by all the mourners in their house. Looking for an escape from them, and despite wearing a dress, she had climbed high up among the big limbs of a perfect tree for climbing that overlooked their backyard. 

Five minutes after she had reached her ascent, an auburn haired lite colonel by the name of George Hammond had joined her and **_suggested_** that she get her ass back down on the terra firma as she was freaking out her father and both sets of grandparents.

Then he warned her that if she didn't go willingly, he'd haul her ass back down.

She had **_never_** mentioned that incident to him, as he had threatened to push her off the tree limb when she sassed him back and told him she'd like to see him try. Plus there was that near incident with General O'Hara…

Cracking the case was surprisingly easy, and she found her problem with no trouble. It appeared that several of the key components had been jarred out of position, causing a lack of consistent contact between the power sources and various components. Using the General's Leatherman, she pried the DHD apart… but carefully, then cleaned the components' bases and then repositioned them.

That done, she placed her hand on the DHD. The first symbol, Lynx, lit up brightly, and she couldn't help but smile. Andromeda, Corona Australis, Hydra and then Norma soon were all glowing and then she placed her hand firmly onto the final symbol, the one she hoped was point of origin… Sextans.

The wormhole failed to initialize, and she nodded her head.

"Ok, twenty four more to try," she stated out loud.

* * *

"Colonel O'Neill," General Ryan's voice did not sound pleased to be hearing from him. "You said this was a matter of some urgency?" 

Jack figured the best thing to do was just give Ryan the story cold but naturally, it would be a uniquely O'Neill report.

"General Hammond went off world," Jack informed Ryan. "There was an unexpected ambush by enemy Jaffa. General Hammond and Captain Samantha Carter were the last ones into the wormhole and… they failed to show up… It's rather long-winded and technical… but…"

"Cut the **_STUPID_** act, Colonel. I've know about you and your escapades for far too long to swallow the stupid routine," barked Ryan.

That tone of voice from Ryan made Jack's backbone straighten.

"Sir! From what we can determine, there was an energy surge while they were in the buffer, and it appears that the buffer was lost."

Jack stopped speaking when he heard the General's sharp intake of breath. Ryan knew exactly what a buffer was, what it did with regards to the gate and what it meant when it came up empty.

"Colonel, I hear words like, "**_Can determine_**," and "**_Appears_**", I do not like reports with generalities, I desire precise, detailed information. Have you attempted a rescue, Colonel?"

"Sir, the energy surge knocked the gate as well as half of Cheyenne Mountain offline. We've been unable to dial out since the gate went back online."

Silence and Jack tried not to squirm. He was sitting in the Seat o' Power, leather upholstery, nicely cushioned, yet why did he feel like he was back in first grade, sitting in a rickety, wooden chair with Mrs. O'Keefe waving a ruler at him?

"Who else was on the team when George went off word? George assured me that he'd be perfectly safe as he was being… _babysat_… by his number one team. Were you on the team that just lost their commanding officer and another officer off world, Colonel?"

"Yes, sir," Jack admitted.

"Was the alien… Tilk?" The General stumbled over the unfamiliar name. "Was he there?"

"Teal'c, Sir," Jack offered helpfully. "Yes, he was there."

"You're to place Teal'c in custody immediately, Colonel, if you've not already done so," the General ordered.

"Sir?" Jack questioned.

"Colonel, Teal'c has already switched sides once in this battle. Can you be one hundred percent sure that he hasn't decided to switch again? Allowing the capture of one of our senior most officers by enemy troops is a good way for Teal'c to get back into his so called God's good graces. How did Hammond get trapped off world? Why the highest ranking officer? If there was an ambush, or a fire fight, George should have gotten through the gate first. The amount of Intel about our planetary defenses Apophis could gain from George is almost frightening to consider."

"Sir, Captain Carter was point. We were on the base of the Gate when a blast from a staff weapon destroyed the step on which she was standing, causing her to fall. General Hammond saw her fall, and he ran back to where she was to assist her back on her feet and through the gate. I was providing cover for them. While the two of them were in the process of leaving the planet, they were fired on by an enemy ship. It appears that the energy blast hit the gate while they were in transit."

Ryan gave him the third degree, and the cushy Seat O' Power became nothing more than a seat for an inquisition. All Jack needed was one lone, bright bulb overhead, and he'd start having flashbacks of his vacation in the Iraqi prison.

By the time Ryan had finished pulling the last of the information from him; Jack knew that boon was still to fall.

"Colonel, I'll be arriving there shortly to oversee the rescue. You're to place the alien in protective custody. I will contact Captain Carter's father and advise him that his daughter and General Hammond were on a plane that developed trouble and is believed down. General Hammond's oldest daughter…"

Fuck! **_FUCK_**! He had to tell Hammond's family that the old man was missing!

Ryan paused as though searching for a name, "Jocelyn is to be advised of the situation using the cover story that I've given you. Do not deviate from the script, Colonel. I'll see you in a few hours. You are to have someone tell Hammond's family and you will do it immediately. Colonel, you will inform your designee of the cover story, as you're in temporary command of the base until I get there. You are not to leave the base. Ryan out."

Jack put the phone back into the receiver and cursed a prayer. There was a knock on the door, and Jack told them to enter.

It was Davis, the short, slight, spectacled sergeant who proved that his nickname of Radar was well earned.

"Sir, I know the General's family. Do you want me to be the one to inform his family?"

Jack nodded his head, and motioned for the sergeant to take a seat. "I want you and Ferretti to tell his daughter…."

Davis nodded his head as Jack explained the cover story.

* * *

Samantha tried the last combination, pressing the last glyph hard. The lights on the Stargate went out immediately, and she tried the combination that she had written down. It had been the twelfth or so combination of assorted glyphs, and the lights on the gate had stayed on for a little longer… as though trying to connect. 

The last glyph was placed, and yes… the gate glowed as though it was trying to connect. Then it shut down.

Samantha wiped her hair out of her eyes, and she tried to ignore the big, fat snowflake that drifted lazily down from the sky. Another one soon joined it. The General was standing next to her and she made sure that she handed back his Leatherman before she got too comfortable with it. She didn't inform that they couldn't get home, as well... it was pretty apparent.

"Captain, we need to get firewood," Hammond ordered. "Do you have any idea if the problem with the gate is on this end? Or the SGC?"

"I don't know, Sir," Samantha admitted.

* * *

Michael Ryan picked up the phone and requested his secretary connect him to Andrews Air Force Base. He counted the rings, mentally preparing himself for the part of the job that he hated most. No matter how many times he had this conversation, it never got any easier. 

The phone was answered, and Ryan spoke, "Jacob? It's Mike. We need to talk. Can we?"

Mike paused, then sighed, "You need to clear your office, Jake. It's important."

Jacob Carter did so, and then Mike Ryan began regretfully informing Samantha Carter's father that Captain Samantha Carter had been on a mission and her plane was overdue.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU. In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

Per a Reviewer's Comment Have kleenex handy. You might need them. You might not.

WIP

* * *

Ignoring the nagging ache of his shoulder, George gathered deadfall as quickly as he could, knowing that their efforts at wood collecting needed to leave as much underbrush undisturbed as possible. A few pieces here and there wouldn't be bad, but last thing he needed was an enemy scout flying overhead to notice an all too likely man made pattern caused by indiscriminate wood gathering. He speculated on what wood would make the best, long running, smokeless hot fire as he didn't recognize any tree beyond what was deciduous and what passed for a conifer in these parts. 

Damn it, he was an old desk jockey, an old cowboy who flew planes, not a botanist!

Captain Carter was moving quickly also, and she was still wearing his jacket, as he had blatantly ignored her noticeable attempts to return it. There was a brisk wind from the west, or what past for west on this planet according to his compass and as long as he didn't stop moving, it wasn't too bad.

Just a mild spring day.

Yeah. He was lying, and the temperature was dropping by leaps and bounds.

He came across a babbling brook, and he cautiously edged out toward it. The woods were still quiet, and he hadn't heard a bird or animal since they arrived. There were no evident track marks or markings where an animal had rested in the soft soil while drinking water. It had been years since he had scouted, but he didn't see any bent grass, broken twigs, or displaced pebbles that might suggest animal life.

No scat either.

Fresh, not-so-fresh or petrified.

Deliberately, he overturned a rock, and he mentally sighed a thank you to whomever was keeping their eye out on them when he saw big, plump grubs attempt to burrow into the ground. If Apophis had sent a plague of Biblical proportions fit to punish his enemies, George doubted that the snake head (and how he **_hoped_** Jack O'Neill would never learn that George had adopted his favorite term of endearment for the Goa'uld) would have left anything bigger than a microbe among the living.

The snow flakes were falling faster and faster, and the brisk wind was whipping something fierce when he realized that he was shivering from the cold. Not slight shivers, but he was shivering so hard that he was fearful of dropping his wood. Two more last branches were quickly acquired and he found himself in the guardhouse. Captain Carter was putting the last of her wood into the pile, and he nodded his head in approval when he saw how much wood they had.

"That'll last for a few days," he commented. "You want to set up housekeeping or do the fire?"

Waiting for her to give him a snippy comment about setting up the barracks was stereotypical woman's work; he decided to keep the peace.

"Jake must have taken you camping, so you start the fire. I don't want to overdo it with my shoulder. There's a Swedish FireSteel in my vest pocket, if you need it."

* * *

She nodded her head and she began placing the wood just so. The General had ripped some blank sheets out of his journal with an unhappy grimace at defiling his journal, and handed it to her for tinder, so along with one of the empty birds' nests of dried grass they had found, and his FireSteel she was able to get the fire started quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the General putting a few more of the birds' nests on the table, along with what looked like a couple handfuls of cedar bark. 

_I'll never again begrudge all those camping trips Dad insisted we take after Mom died. I can make more tinder from the bark by pounding it with a stone so to separate the fibers…, so at least I can pull my weight on this camping trip from hell._

For a moment, memories of her father trying to explain how to start a fire came to her mind. It had been right after her mother had died, and her father had taken Mark and her camping. Once upon a time, the three of them had enjoyed camping… but not after her mom had died. Mark had sulked the entire time and blatantly refused to talk to her father, and… she had to admit… that she had been a little surly also.

It took some time as the wood was wet and the fireplace drafty, but soon the fire was roaring and the room became a little warmer. Hammond wasn't in the room with her, and she walked over to the table.

He had put everything on the table, she thought with a slight smile. Six power bars, including a rather esoteric flavor called blueberry cheesecake, his MRE which the General hadn't eaten at lunch and his canteen among many other items. Her smile widened when she recognized several telltale packages nestled, half-hidden behind the aspirin, water purification pills and anti-diarrhea medication.

_Condoms, General? _

For water storage, she knew, but still, her mind was giggling at the thought of the stern faced Hammond unwinding enough to actually … make _love_… to a woman. Yeah, she could imagine him knocking the boots, but doing it in a perfunctory, dutiful, soldierly manner… and when done, asking gruffly,

"_Was that good for you, Ma'am?" _

Her laughter quickly died as her conscience nagged her and she remembered what she read in his journal, a grieving man's lament to his dead wife…

**_Our love was like a circle; How I wish I could go 'round one more time with you.

* * *

_**

He had pulled everything out of his vest and put it on the table. He had debated putting the condoms on the table, they were better than nothing for storing water which is why he always kept some on him, but he didn't want Jake's daughter thinking he wanted a little action on the side. Yet, if he didn't put them on the table, no doubt when he had to pull them out of his pocket to use them to store water, Jake's daughter would get the wrong idea.

There was only one woman that had ever made him go weak in the knees and hard elsewhere… and she was sleeping in the earth, in a lonely grave in Texas. When he got called home, his body would lie next to hers in the cold earth, but God, how he hoped their souls would meet again.

Born in the Bible Belt, he had been thoroughly raised in the Christian faith, but after reading all the reports about Ra and dealing with Apophis kidnapping his personnel, his faith was a might weak, he was ashamed to admit.

He hadn't stepped foot in a church for a Sunday service since Maggie died. His Bible-thumping, Old Testament quoting father must be spinning in the grave over his prodigal son.

Plus a certain group of Time traveling Military officers had put the first doubts in his soul.

Was everything preordained? Did he truly have no choices in his life? Had God decided that Maggie Hammond had to pay in spades over and over again?

Since everything was apparently inevitable, with no way of escaping the unavoidable, he put the packages of condoms on the table, hiding them behind the aspirin and the water purification tablets.

Carter was having problems starting the fire as the wood was wet, and he bit his tongue, deciding if they were stuck on the planet together, the last thing he needed to do was imply that he had no faith in her ability to start a fire. Instead he grabbed the heavy blankets from where he found them and threw one on the floor, putting the other two on the bed. He'd sleep on the floor, give her the bed.

For good measure, he threw the thermal/exposure blanket on the bed.

The Captain was small boned, though tall. The cold would affect her quicker than it would him what with all his layers. That done, the housekeeping finished far too quickly, he grabbed the few pans he could find, and took them outside. He'd have to hide them, so the sun wouldn't cause the glint of metal to flash, attracting the eyes of the enemy.

The pans were positioned just so, and he caught the faintest whiff of burning wood. No smoke yet was coming out of the chimney so he decided to stay outside for a bit. If the smoke was heavy, and went toward the sky, rather lingering toward the ground, he'd need to make the decision which was more important.

Possibly alerting the enemy or freezing to death.

His mind began to wander…

_It had been a bad day and his mood had gone steadily southward until even Hank the Supposedly Fearless was afraid to enter his office, even while waving the white flag of surrender. But now he was home, finally, and maybe, just maybe…if Maggie was awake, he'd get on his knees and beg Maggie to make love tonight. _

_If she was feeling strong enough. _

_And if she had any lingering desire for his old, beat up carcass. _

_He had gotten physically thicker and mentally denser as he had gotten older, his hair had long since long since fled to parts unknown and Maggie… well…she just got more and more beautiful as the years passed._

_Couldn't blame her for not being interested in him. _

_The last time for them had been right before her surgery, and then they couldn't think about it for six weeks and by then the chemo had knocked her for a loop, so it had been a couple months of just kissing, cuddling and hand-holding. Which while quite enjoyable and nice, don't get him wrong, he really missed being intimate with his wife. He had promised that he'd be home early, gotten her hopes up and then reality had completely bombed his good intentions to hell._

_She tired easily these days, and more than likely, she'd be asleep in their bed by the time he got home. He'd kiss her goodnight, carefully, so not to wake her, and then he'd sleep on the couch. That way he was close to the phone if the base called, so it wouldn't disrupt her sleep. She rarely slept the complete night, often he found her pacing the night away, and he often walked the long nights away with her, letting her lean on him for support. _

_To his surprise, Hurricane Julia met him at the door, and handed him a lighter._

"_I'm sorry I'm late, Julia. What's this? I don't smoke, Julia," he reminded her. _

"_Start lighting the candles. There's two dozen or so that need to be lit, dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes…" Julia giggled before scampering… yes… that's the only way to describe her demeanor, **scampering** to her car._

_He looked at her in concern, and then she flashed him a naughty grin and gave him a thumb up gesture._

"_Go get her, Tiger!" Julia ordered, before giving him a very credible wild cat purr. "Those roses are beautiful, George!"_

_The Davises must be on drugs, as they were acting down right weird today._

_That was it. That was the only explanation! _

_So shaking his head, he entered his house, and he realized that there were notes all over place with his name on it. All of them were in Maggie's shaky handwriting, and he opened the first one._

"_Think naughty thoughts."_

_He tried not to laugh, but he knew that he was wearing a rather lecherous smile as he reached for the next note._

"_Think **naughtier** ones"_

_Up the steps with a jaunty stride, his mind thinking very naughty thoughts, and yes! There was another note on the table next to the landing._

"_Go to the couch."_

_Into the living room, and there was a package with yes, a note. His smile was getting broader he knew… and he quickly open the envelope, tearing it in his haste to read the next love note. _

"_You have to wear this for dinner."_

_He opened it, found something silky and rather long **fortunately**, and he growled… "Maggie…"_

_Another note fell from somewhere in the robe. He opened it quickly, wanting to savor this, but the anticipation was getting to him._

"_I'll be wearing something similar…"_

_He turned toward the kitchen, and to his surprise, Maggie was standing next to the Shoji screen. The screen was a frivolous purchase he had picked up on his tours abroad and it always moved with him, and it was an exotic background for what she was wearing. She was all made up, wearing cosmetics to give her pale cheeks some color, and she was wearing something long, silky and smooth._

_Maggie gave him a shy though naughty smile, and oh dear God, his knees went weak, and certain parts of the anatomy were delighted to prove to one and to all that they were still working at top efficiency._

_He held out his hand to her, and when she took it, he led her to the couch. George then sat next to her, devouring the love of his life with his eyes, before caressing her cheek carefully with his trembling hand._

"_George… those roses…" Maggie told him softly. "They're beautiful."_

"_Maggie Mae, I really miss making love with you," he whispered. "It's not that I don't desire you, but I worried that you weren't feeling up to it. I hope we can make love tonight, Maggie. But if you're tired, or not feeling up to it, I'll understand, darling."_

"_I've yearned for your touch, George," Maggie assured him. "I thought you might not be interested because of this."_

_She placed her hand over her missing breast, and George knew he had tears in his eyes like a damn fool._

"_No," George protested strongly. "**Never**!"_

_He kissed her over and over again. First her lips, then her face and then down her neck. Then slowly, deliberately, he untied her robe, and he began placing his kisses purposely southward until he reached that ugly, ugly scar._

"_George?" Maggie whispered._

_Oh God, she **was** so terrified of his reaction, so he held onto her hands tightly. _

_He ignored her, intent on lovingly kissing every inch of that jagged scar and he felt her hands grip his even tighter. When the blemish had been thoroughly kissed, he pulled away from her. _

"_Maggie? Did you stop wanting me because I was balding by the time I was thirty five?"_

_Giving him an amused expression that spoke volumes about how well she knew him, Maggie shook her head._

"_Thirty actually," Maggie teased._

"_Did your desire fade when I got more solid around my middle due to your delicious cooking, girl?" He teased her._

"_Just more of you to love," Maggie explained. "More of you to hold onto when you're…calling out my name so soft and sweet in that deep, rumbling voice of yours."_

_She flashed him a rather wicked smile and he knew he was blushing. _

"_Did you get repulsed by my wrinkles?" George questioned._

"_No, you're still the same red-headed redneck that I loved from the first day I met."_

"_Then don't doubt me, Maggie," he pleaded. "**Please** don't. I wish I could do my life over; it's been rough for you, being married to me. All those times apart, while I was overseas or taking those damn classes…You're the most important person in my life, Maggie. You are, don't doubt me. Don't **ever** doubt my love for you, please. "_

_Maggie was the most important person in his life. But for that older George, who he hadn't become yet, had knowingly put those four people in a position to profoundly affect his life …_

_An icy feeling in his gut as he realized what that meant…_

_Was Maggie Mae gonna die and leave him **alone**?_

_After all those years of trying to become a General in order to save those four wayward travelers, would the Older George hand that note to Samantha Carter because it was the only reason he had kept on living after his wife died?_

_Because he had to do it._

_Because no one else could._

_Because the price had been paid in blood and in pain, over and over and over again. _

_Would he hand that note to Samantha Carter knowing full well the hell he had put his wife through and that bitter fact that handing her the note would ensure that he'd always be to blame? That there was no way to escape the simple fact; he had to hurt his wife over and over again, because it had happened, and would happen, world without end?_

_He kissed Maggie over and over again, and then when George finally came up for air, he wanted to ask his wife again for her forgiveness, but instead he gave her a shaky smile._

"_Can dinner be served cold?" He questioned in a very low growl._

_Maggie blushed and nodded yes._

_Then George kissed her hard, trying to recapture the stamina of the much younger man he had once been, where the first night home from a tour away from his family had consisted of a love making marathon. _

_He prided himself on never having sex with his wife, no, instead they **made love**, which was an entirely different thing. Animals fucked, but the intimacy between a man and woman, it was a holy commitment, a promise, the coming together of two souls completely and utterly, physically, spiritually and mentally._

"_My toes **curled**," Maggie admitted when they finally broke apart. _

_He swooped her off her feet, carried her into the kitchen where Maggie turned off the oven, and then he carried her up the steps to their bedroom, trying not to acknowledge how frail Maggie was, how much weight she had lost, instead he was focused only on loving her to the best of her ability for however long they had together._

_It had to be enough._

_It **would** be enough._

_Wouldn't it?

* * *

_

_He took his time, massaging her gently, making sure there was a lot of kissing and copious amounts of foreplay. To his delighted pride, Maggie fell asleep in his arms after one hell of a good… no…a five alarm fire of an outstanding time._

_Carefully so not to jar her, he reached for his phone, his long arm questing for his phone. He managed to grab it, and carefully he dialed Hank's phone. The phone rang, and George hoped that Hank wasn't getting lucky tonight. He'd hate to interrupt Hank._

"_Landry," Hank announced easily._

_Hank wasn't out of breath, there wasn't any female laughter in the background – no instead, it sounded like a football game, so George was glad he didn't interrupt anything. _

"_Hammond," George drawled. "I'm playing hooky tomorrow morning. I'll be in at thirteen hundred. Think you can keep the Free World safe until I get in?"_

"_I'll tell Saddam Hussein that he has to take tomorrow off," Hank laughed. _

"_Excellent," George drawled. "Thanks, Hank. I owe you one."_

"_No, you don't, George. No, you don't."_

_He put the phone down, and he sighed when he realized that Maggie was awake._

"_You're playing hooky tomorrow morning? What will General Hammond say?" Maggie teased._

"_He'll be envious…" he teased before he began kissing her again.

* * *

_

_Arriving slightly before thirteen hundred he noticed that there was a taste of tension in the air. Everyone was standing a little straighter, and looking about nervously as though waiting for the other shoe to drop._

"_Sgt?" He stepped in front of a harried looking Sgt. Siler._

"_It's General McPeak, Sir. He stopped by unannounced," Siler explained. "He pulled Colonel Landry into your office and that was several hours ago."_

_**Shit**. Why didn't anyone call me? George thought. Merrill "Tony" McPeak, Air Force Chief of Staff stopping by unannounced wasn't a good thing. The fact that nobody called him wasn't a promising sign either. _

_He walked into his office, and he caught Landry on the way off. His 2IC's bushy, expressive eyebrows were downcast. Hank's big, bushy caterpillars of eyebrows appeared distinctly dejected._

_Shit, those damn things should be classified as intelligent life forms. _

_You could tell how Hank was doing just by looking at his eyebrows; much like a look at a dog's tail would let you know how it was feeling. And he could tell Hank felt pretty guilty about something._

"_You should have called me," he hissed. _

"_General," Hank explained softly. "Please… let me explain."_

"_General, I asked the Colonel not to call you. Colonel, you're dismissed. General, if you could come into your office please?" General McPeak, USAF Chief of Staff requested… ordered._

_George walked into his office, then sat down in a chair on the wrong side of his desk after McPeak's casual gesture to take a seat._

"_Sir…" George explained._

"_Don't blame Hank, George. I asked where you were, and he told me that you were with your wife. I told him not to call you. I'm not here to reprimand you, George, so get that look off your face. I wanted to ask Hank a few questions, plus I want to talk to you. How do you like Europe? You're fluent in German, correct?"_

_George's heart sank. _

_The Powers that Be were thinking it was time to transfer him. _

_To Spangdahlem Air Base or maybe Ramstein, if they knew he was fluent in German. If he got Ramstein, he'd be assured of that second star, probably a third within a few years' time. Then maybe he'd find himself in McPeak's position in a few years._

_Damn it, had he been here that long? Yes, it was working on three years he'd been on the base, managing to turn it around into a first class operation. Three years in one place…which was a lifetime in a career like his._

"_Sir?" George questioned softly. "Permission to speak freely?"_

_Tony gave him a long look and then rolled his eyes._

"_Permission to spill your guts, George. It's obvious you have something to say," Tony answered._

"_Maggie's …. Ill…," George explained, knowing his voice was shaking, and those damn tears, he couldn't and wouldn't shed in front of Maggie, were in his eyes. _

"_I thought she was getting treatment for the cancer, George. I know she's sick, but from what I was told, they had high hopes for a cure."_

"_Don't make me move her, please," George whispered. "It's not good… it's only a matter of time, Tony. It's spreading, Tony. It's like wildfire, Tony."_

_He stopped, wiped his eyes, and cursed himself for showing his weakness to Tony. _

"_It's spreading like wildfire," he said softly. "Don't make me tell her that we're moving again, Tony. Her doctors are here, her support is here; don't make me take her overseas, please. Our family's close enough to be able to visit…I have taken every assignment without a qualm. I've moved my family so many times over the years… Tony… she's **dying**…Please… I just can't ask her to move… not now…"_

_His voice broke, and he knew that he was about to weep. _

_Finally, he had admitted it to himself that Maggie wasn't going to get better, that the treatments were only delaying the inevitable, and that all those promises he had vowed to Maggie over the years were ash and cinder in his mouth as there was no way in hell he could fulfill any of them. _

_Not with such little time remaining._

_All those promises he had glibly pledged. _

_We'll have that big house, Maggie. We'll settle down, live near our daughters, close but not too close….so they can have their lives without worrying about us getting too involved, but close enough that we can babysit the girls…._

"_Please…" George almost failed to recognize his own voice. He was actually pleading… no… **begging**… his case with General McPeak? "Let her die here, in Texas. Not in Germany, please. Don't make me tell her that she's got to move again…It's only gonna be a few months, Tony…Please, I just can't do that to her… I **can't**…Let me retire instead."_

_McPeak stared at him for a bit and then shook his head._

"_If I didn't know better, I'd swear you and Landry rehearsed your refusals. Landry wanted a few months here also. Landry said it wouldn't be right to make you train a new second with everything happening in your personal life." McPeak stood up and nodded his head. "He didn't want to be promoted, George."_

"_This has been an unusual day, George. I've been refused twice. People aren't in the habit of refusing my requests, yet today, not once, but twice, people have told me, "No, Sir", and have had damn good reasons for refusing. It's a unique sensation to be rejected, especially in my position, George, one that I'll have to savor for a bit. It'll keep me humble. I'm also not letting you retire, as it's refreshing to find someone that has made it to your rank and still commands loyalty among his subordinates. We need you in the USAF, George, and we're not letting you get out that easily."_

_McPeak had left soon afterwards, and George had ordered Landry into his office. His 2IC's eyebrows were bristling, which meant Landry was feeling his oats._

"_Don't ruin your career for me," George insisted._

"_I'm doing it for your wife," Landry explained. "For Hanh Phuc also. For all the times I put my career first…I'm an old dog, George… but I've finally learned a new trick. It's too late for me, but maybe... it'll be enough for you and your wife."_

_George nodded his head and dismissed Hank. _

_Hanh Phuc._

_A South Vietnamese girl, who had captured Landry's heart, bore his daughter and then had decided one day that she could no longer allow herself to be treated as second best. _

Hanh Phuc…that was a name that he hadn't thought of in years, George thought. His daydreaming finished, he realized that the smell of smoke was stronger, and the sky was getting dark. The snow was coming down heavier, and he quickly combined the snow in the pans into one of the smaller ones to give him a ready excuse for why he had been out in the snow for so long.

"Maggie, why are you haunting me?" George whispered. "I thought I made my peace with this so long ago. Ever since those four came back into my life, the wound that your death caused, it's been ripped open."

Wiping his eyes, and hoping that Captain Carter would think that that his eyes were wet due to the snow and that the next memory wouldn't surface… but he knew… he knew that the next memory would be the hardest one to face. He went into the guard house, ignored Samantha Carter's questioning look and place the snow filled pan next to the fire.

"Should be safe to drink," he mumbled. "What do we have inventory wise?"

Samantha Carter began rattling off the various items that hopefully would ensure their survival. He wasn't listening, instead… he was remembering the worst day of his life.

_Maggie was lying in their bed, so still and so quiet. Her strong, magnificent heart kept beating, too stubborn to give up, but her soul… her soul was gone. The cancer had slipped into every nook and cranny that was Maggie and her soul had fled toward the light. _

_All that was left was the physical shell of the woman he had loved since he was fifteen._

_Jocelyn and Millie had arrived to say their final goodbyes, with husbands and babies in tow. Kayla hadn't been brought in to see her Grandmom as she was too young to understand what was happening and Tessa was young enough to still nurse. The girls had left the room, leaving him with the Hospice Nurse and Maggie. The hospice nurse gave him a long look, apparently it was supposed to pass for a comforting look or some shit like that. _

"_George, they say that hearing is the last sense to go," the nurse explained to him._

"_I've heard that said," he answered slowly._

"_George, why don't you talk to Maggie and let her know that it's ok to go," the nurse suggested. _

"_I don't want her to go," he protested in a soft whisper. "I know that there's nothing that can be done, and that it would be a blessing if she should pass, but I can't tell her that it's ok to go just yet. I need to talk to her **alone**, and then…I'll tell her to go. Will you leave us alone? "_

_The nurse nodded her head, and George waited until the nurse was gone. Then he got onto to the bed with his comatose wife, and he rolled closer to her, so he could whisper into her right ear. With his left hand, he stroked her face for what he knew would be the last time. _

"_Darling, it's me, George. Ignore the lights for just a little more, darling. You can go to them, but not just yet. I need to tell you something. It's a secret that I've been keeping from you all these years… I never had an affair or nothing like that, Maggie, so don't you fret, as you are the only woman for me, it's just I made a promise to four people and I told them that I'd never tell a living soul what it was, but I need to tell you what I did, and to beg your forgiveness. I think they'd understand why I had to break my word to them."_

"_Once upon a time, a long, long time ago… back in August 1969, it was a few weeks after Josh had his first heart attack, I met four people…who claimed to know me from the future, and in their hands, they had a note in my handwriting that I have not yet written asking me to help them…and one of them was Jacob and Viviane Carter's daughter, who was all grown up… "_

_He told her the entire story, and how he was full of guilt and doubts about whether or not the four of them were worth the cost that she had been forced to pay._

"_But I had to do it, Maggie, I had to buck for that damn star, because I was destined to do it, and I had to make sure that it came true…but I'd take back all those damn classes, all those overseas tours, just to have you here with me for just a few more minutes." _

"_I don't know what I'm gonna do without you with me, Mags," George confessed softly. "I just don't know. But… Maggie… do you hear your Mamma calling for you? She wants to see you again, so… you go to her… ya hear?"_

"_I love you, Margaret," George whispered to his unconscious wife. "I will always love you, and no one else."_

_Then he sat up, cradling her frail body in his arms, so when she died, her spirit would know that he had held her at their bitter parting. His blue eyes were full of unshed tears, and he kept stroking the soft peach fuzz on her scalp. Her eyes opened, and she looked at him. Honestly, she really looked at him, though he knew it wasn't possible, and she gave him a weak smile. She licked her lips slowly._

"_Maggie?" George questioned. "Maggie, darling, did you hear me?"_

_Her head nodded once, slowly._

"… _love… you…" she mouthed before she closed her eyes. _

"_Do you forgive me? Please?" He whispered. _

_The slightest smile was his only response. _

_He was gonna weep, he knew it, but he had to be strong at the end. _

"_Go to the light, darling. Be free, you fought a good fight, but go to your Mamma now. It's late, dear, you go find your Mamma and go to sleep, dear," George whispered. "Fly away dear, it's time for you to fly away."_

_His voice cracking, he tried to sing the lullaby he had always sung to their girls about a silly little girl from Texas named Maggie Mae who had lassoed a bull and rode a mustang. He sang until his voice broke, and then continued singing anyway. Maggie's breathing slowed and then stilled, and he continued humming. _

_For a moment, George would have sworn that he felt her soul touch his, but…then she was gone, leaving him nothing but memories of happier times and an aching hole in his heart.. _

_He cursed the four time travelers, wishing that he had never met them, damning them for that the onerous responsibility that had kept him in the military for all these years, all those tours where he was apart from his wife for so damn long._

"_I **hate** you, Samantha Carter. I **hate** you, I **hate** your friends, and I will make you pay when we finally meet again," he growled. "So help me God. You **will** pay."_

_He knew he was angry, and he was saying stuff he'd probably regret later. But for now, he meant every damn word. Then he broke into soul ripping, heart shredding tears as he held his dead wife in his arms._

_His main reason for living was gone, and in her place, there was only a yellow sheet of paper with two dates and times and a request for him to help four strangers.

* * *

_

The General wasn't listening to her while she was rattling off their rather miniscule inventory. His physical body was there, sitting across from her in a wooden chair, but his mind was elsewhere, no doubt wishing he was anywhere but here with Jake Carter's little girl. He seemed to be focused on his hands, as he was rubbing them in a feeble attempt to warm them.

Why had the General gone outside and stayed out for so long? Especially since he had left his black knitted hat in the pile on the table. Upon his return to "Home Sweet Home", Hammond had grabbed it immediately, replaced his patrol cap with it, and then had pulled it down to cover his ears.

"… and three sticks of dynamite," she added for good measure, determined to see if he was actually paying attention to her or just ignoring her. "The fire's not burning hot enough, so I figure if I put two sticks into the fireplace, the room will warm up."

That earned a blink of his eyes, and the General looked at her, **_really_** looked at her for the longest time, and there were all too familiar emotions in his eyes that she couldn't name, but whatever the sentiments were, his blue eyes were touched with bitterness and pain. For some unexplained reason, she knew that George Hammond viewed **_her_** as the responsible party.

And it wasn't because he was on another planet with no way home.

No… the pain was far too edgy and sharp. Her father had the same look in his eyes for so long after her mother had died, especially when he had looked at her.

_**Haunted.**_

Yes.

That was the only word she could use to describe that look, but the word was so **_inadequate_**, as it failed to convey the depth of pain in his eyes.

"I'd suggest standing back before you throw the dynamite on the fire," he stated dryly. "If you've finished your attempt at being funny, our lives depend on the inventory that we have. If you'll begin again, Captain."

* * *

Jack O'Neill was not having a good day. 

First, General Hammond had decided that he wanted to have an off-world picnic.

Then they had gotten in the middle of a war, got shot at, and then when they finally got home, they were missing General Hammond and Captain Carter. Hammond could probably take care of himself; O'Neill had to grudgingly admit, as the Ole Man had muttered not a single word of complaint on their twenty mile hike. Carter on the other hand, well, he was her CO and he should have been the one left behind with Hammond.

No instead, George Hammond, the Ole Man of the Mountain, had witnessed Carter's fall, had acted faster than O'Neill thought possible, and had tried to help Carter through the gate, while O'Neill had to watch.

Ok, that was the really annoying part.

The Ole Man of the Mountain, who should have been **_EXHAUSTED,_** had kept a better eye on his team than he had.

And now, the two of them were missing.

Mike Ryan was en route to the Mountain, and bring Samantha Carter's father along for the ride. Apparently Major General Jacob Carter had a bit of a temper, and by hook or by crook had managed to get invited to their tea party. Great, just what Jack needed! A General and a worried father wrapped up in neatly pressed Air Force Blues breathing down Jack's neck!

Ferretti and Davis had returned from General Hammond's daughter's house in a subdued mood. From what he had gathered, the family had not taken the news well… but what family ever did?

He should have been there, should have been the one telling Hammond's family that everything was being done to rescue George, but no… he had more important responsibilities.

He had to arrest Teal'c.

Sorry.

Put him in _protective custody_.

Putting Teal'c in "protective custody" had been surprisingly hard, especially since Teal'c had greeted the news with an almost expectant nonchalance. He had entered Teal'c's quarters alone, with two armed guards standing outside in the hallway. God protected fools, he knew, and what he was doing, alone, some would consider quite stupid.

"T," O'Neill said. "My government has some concerns about your role in General Hammond's…"

He couldn't say death… disappearance wasn't quite the word he was looking for, and while he was trying to explain, Teal'c stood up and held out his hands, silently agreeing to be handcuffed.

"Your government's concerns are understandable. General Hammond's knowledge and experience of this world's defenses would prove invaluable to Apophis."

"Teal'c, I know you didn't con us," O'Neill inserted. "For now, stay in the room. I have two guards placed outside your door. If you can think of anyway to help, please tell them. General Ryan should be here shortly, so he'll want to meet with you."

That done, he returned to the GateRoom where Siler was having a rather heated discussion with Bill Lee and some jerk named Rodney, who claimed to be a bigger expert on the gate than Carter was.

"He's a bigger…." Davis muttered softly. The Chevron Guy looked uncomfortable when he realized Jack O'Neill was listening.

"That's ok, the bigger the ass, the harder we can kick it!" O'Neill stated cheerfully.

* * *

General Carter was reviewing the documents before him in the plane. Thanks to being one of the most annoying, tactless, reckless, demanding SOB ever born, (as per Mike Ryan) he had managed to get his security clearance upgraded to get more information on George and Samantha's situation. 

"Another planet," he channeled his disbelief into a questioning tone. "George and Sammy were on another planet?

"Yes," Ryan assured him. "We're not sure if they're alive."

"George will get Sammy home," Jake insisted. The Major General rubbed his head, annoyed that when his daughter needed him most, he was run down with a fever, aches and swollen lymph nodes. "I'm a little tired, so I'll take a cat nap, as we've got another hour before we land. But Mike, this O'Neill person? You trust him?"

"George has… concerns…." Ryan admitted slowly. As much as it would be easier to lie to Jacob, he couldn't. "Says O'Neill is a bit of a loose cannon, and he needs to be watched carefully."

"That's not what I wanted to hear," Jake admitted. "But if anyone can get Sammy home, it'll be George."

* * *

The sparse inventory was counted three times, stockpiled and neatly arranged. The uneasy silence between the two of them grew, and then Hammond spoke. Sam jumped in surprise at the sound of the CO's voice, her nerves stretched thin by the increasing howl of the wind and the situation in which she found herself. 

"We'll assume that the problem with the gate is on Earth's side. We'll try connecting with Earth every 6 hours. You should turn your radio off to converse the battery," Hammond announced in his non-nonsense voice.

"Yes, Sir," Sam agreed. "It's a little chilly in here."

"It's an old building, and not in the best of shape. I've barred the doors, so nobody should get in. I'll take first watch, you get some sleep." Hammond suggested. "I'll work on turning the bark into tinder. We'll need to find more if the weather's stays like this."

The General sat down in the chair in front of the table. He put his gun within easy reach on the table, and he took his knife and began shredding the bark carefully.

"I'll wake you in four hours," he decided. "Get some sleep, Captain."

She agreed, and she gratefully crawled into the bed. It was lumpy, it was uncomfortable, and it smelled rather… funky…but at least, it was warm. Barely managing to pull the covers over her, she was soon in a deep sleep.

* * *

The pile of tinder grew exponentially, and soon, he had finished that chore. Glancing at his watch, he estimated that he had another forty minutes of on-duty time, so he took out his journal and began sketching. Not a fit night out for man nor beast, he believed that the guard duty was unnecessary, but better be safe than sorry because it would be just his luck for a Seti Yeti to show up for hot tea and a Powerbar, bearing a housewarming gift. 

His stomach growled, reminding him it had been **_quite_** some time since he had eaten last, but he ignored it. Tomorrow morning, he and the Captain would split his uneaten MRE for their daily meal.

Naturally, Maggie was what he tried to draw. All these years, he'd just have to close his eyes, think of her, and images would practically draw themselves.

Maggie, her long hair undone, proudly holding a newborn Jocelyn… but the images wouldn't come.

That soft sweet seductive smile, as she took him by the hand and turned a scared boy into a man.

Dear, dear Maggie, having enough self-confidence to guide him through what she liked and what she thought that she'd like and leave his teenage pride intact.

Maggie, grinning victoriously, while she had pelted him with snowballs. She had dumped a whole lot of snow down the collar of his jacket for good measure, and he had gotten even by picking her up and throwing her into a snow bank even while Jocelyn giggled and laughed at her silly parents.

He was getting colder, and he gave up his drawings as a lost cause. Instead, he threw more wood on the fire, and watched the flames for a bit. The time to wake Captain Carter drew closer and then passed, and he let her sleep. The snow was still falling, and the winds had picked up substantially. They weren't going anywhere, not in that blizzard.

He picked up his blanket, and wrapped it around himself.

Unbidden, a thought came to his mind…

_What if he already changed history and Samantha Carter would die on his godforsaken planet?_

_What if it all had been for naught?_


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

Ok This started out slightly AU, but then Jacob Carter demanded that he be allowed to play, and so to stop his rather insistent voice, I went completely AU.

WIP

* * *

George Hammond was watching the fire vigilantly, and listening to the wind 'blowing a bitch' out there. He quirked a smile, as he easily remembered the Ireland-born TSgt who had unfortunately used that colorful phrase to describe the weather to his CO once. He had been in… what base had it been? Naval Air Station Keflavik in Iceland? Or had it been Misawa Air Base in Japan? So many places, so many memories, some of them pretty painful but some of them had been pretty damn special. 

His second daughter, Milagros, named after her maternal grandmother but called Millie by everyone… she had been lovingly created during his tour in Alaska. Maggie always jokingly blamed Jacob Carter for the fact they had two daughters born so close together, as it had been Jacob's St. Patrick's Day Celebration with a hell of a lot of green beer… and Millie had arrived slightly after New Year's, but fortunately this time, in a hospital with a hell of a lot of doctors and nurses and trained personnel.

He was letting Captain Carter sleep through the night as there really wasn't any need for her to wake. It was getting colder and so he threw more wood on the fire, guesstimating that they had maybe two more days worth of fuel. It would get pretty cold by then, but Captain Carter had a destiny to fulfill, and she'd make it home.

And what a destiny it was.

They were destined to meet a long, long time ago.

She'd make it home… alright.

_He took the bright yellow piece of paper from his wallet. Then, he walked up to the casket, ignoring everyone's concerned looks. They were all busy singing away… Maggie had wanted a loud, joyous celebration of her life and so she had picked every peppy, upbeat funeral song she could. _

_I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away  
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away  
Some bright morning when this life is over, I'll fly away  
To a land on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away  
When the shadows of this life have grown, I'll fly away  
Like a bird from these prison walls, I'll fly away_

_He would have preferred a funeral dirge himself, but last night, when he couldn't sleep and he was compulsively ironing his jacket, and aligning and realigning his damn fruit salad, all those medals and awards that represented time away from his wife and family, on his jacket, he had decided what he had to do. The casket was still open, and he slid that piece of paper beneath her hands. _

_Then he took his gold stars and pinned them on her collar. When he had been promoted, she had pinned them on him, and now he was returning the honor. That mission finished, he then kissed her on the forehead, wanting one last kiss to hold him through the lonely years before they met again. _

"_I give you my secret, Maggie, and you will take it to your grave, as the price was too high for me," George whispered. _

_He then returned to his pew, not even trying to pretend that he was singing along with the rest of the crowd. _

_Hank, good old Hank, right now was trying to understand what George had just done, but Hank couldn't make heads or tails of why his General had just pinned his own set of stars on his wife's collar. Hank, who had handpicked the pall bearers from his subordinates who had volunteered, and who had decided that Maggie would be carried those final few yards by Mag's son-in-laws along with Jake, Sly Siler, Walt Davis and him. _

_Hank, with his gaggle of girlfriends, the nameless groupies that threw themselves at an eligible man in uniform, who had an ex-wife who hated him and a daughter who had sent back her father's check to help pay for her education with a scribbled suggestion for Hank to do something physically impossible with the folded check._

_Did he envy Hank?_

_Or did he pity him?_

_Once, he thought he pitied Hank, for his marriage, that had started full of such promise and hope that had ended up cataclysmically self-destructing due to Hank's military career, and for his daughter, that loathed her father so much that she had taken her stepfather's name as her own. _

_Now… now…. He bitterly envied Hank, because Hank the Lothario and his one-nights conquests had never, would never, experience the aching heartbreak of watching their soul mate die inch by inch. Jake Carter nodded his head once in approval at what George had done, as he alone knew what agony George was experiencing. His dark eyes were suspiciously moist, and George knew that Jake was battling his own demons at the moment._

_To George's surprise, Hank grabbed George's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, wordlessly offering his CO his unconditional, emotional support and George began weeping, at last letting his tears flow, knowing and accepting the fact that he was intrinsically unworthy of such absolute regard._

"_She was a remarkable woman," Hank informed him softly. "I envy you… that you found someone strong enough to cope with being married to men like us."_

"_She deserved better," George protested. "She should have had so much more than the little I could give her."_

_After the funeral, and after everyone had left his house, he had changed for bed. Damn it, the hospice people had changed the sheets and even the pillow cases on his bed. Couldn't they have let him do that? He couldn't sleep in his empty bed, with crisp sheets that smell of laundry soap, and finally after several fruitless hours of tossing and turning, he got out of the bed and began rummaging through his dresser. He had hidden something, not wanting anyone to take it, because the girls had thought that they were doing him a kindness, and had gone through most of their mother's clothes and had gotten rid of them. _

_Unless the girls decided to rummage through his underwear drawer, they never would find this. It was that long robe that Maggie had worn during the last few months when she was feeling well enough to be frisky. Whenever she wore it, it meant that she wanted sweet lovin' from him and he had been delighted to oblige. _

_He carefully sniffed the collar, and yes, he could smell her special perfume as she always put just a dab on her neck….and she wore it just for him. God knows where he had gotten that particular fragrance from originally, but Maggie had decided that it was… an exceptional perfume to be worn **only** for him on the most illicit and passionate of opportunities._

_He returned back to his lonely bed, and he put the robe on his pillow. He'd be able to smell her perfume and maybe… just maybe… he wouldn't feel so lonely._

_Quickly, he fell asleep and he dreamed._

_Maggie was wearing the robe, smelling slightly of that beautiful perfume and she was sitting in front of the shoji screen. She looked all of sixteen and she was fluttering a fan like a highly priced geisha. The sight was rather incongruous, as she was wearing his General's stars along with her engagement, wedding and several anniversary rings. No… he had given all her rings, with the exception of her wedding ring, to the girls. _

"_So, I finally got your attention, Hammond. I have been yelling at you all day, George, and you haven't wanted to hear me," she said as she closed the fan with a loud snap. Then for good measure, she thwacked him on the head with it. "What the hell were you **thinking** at the funeral?"_

"_That I miss you," he softly protested. "That I have a huge, gaping hole in my heart where you were all those years…"_

_Another thwack on the head._

"_George, you put that note in my coffin!" Maggie protested. "What the hell good is that? When those four people you are going to meet for the first time show up in your office, what are you gonna do, Hammond? Pardon me; I need to make a few phone calls…."_

"_Maggie," he interjected slowly. "We never fought when you were alive, why are you yelling at me now?"_

_That was a white lie, but one might excuse his sin of omission because telling your recently deceased wife that sometimes you had been in fear of her cracking your thick, empty head open with a iron skillet on the few times she had gotten truly exceptionally angry with you was probably a very bad thing. _

"_Pardon me; I need to exhume my wife as I put a note in her coffin that's actually meant for you?" Maggie snapped before hitting him again with the fan._

_Well, she tried, but this time, he grabbed her and prevented the blow from falling. No instead, this time, he pulled her closer to him and he kissed her fiercely, trying not to think of the inherent ickiness of fifty year old him kissing a sixteen year old version of his deceased wife. When they finally broke apart and he had regained his breath, he tried to explain what he had done._

"_The price is too high, Maggie. I'm worn-out from the burden. I'm tired of always moving every two, three years. I'm retiring, Mags. I want to spend the few years I have left on this Earth, with our daughters and our grandkids. To hell with everything else, I'm finally realizing that the cost is too much for one man," he protested. _

"_You're blaming them for my death, aren't you?" Maggie questioned. "George…**Sawyer**… **Hammond**…"_

_Shit. She was using his full name. He was in a hell of a lot of trouble with the judge, jury and prosecuting attorney then. _

"_Can't we go back to kissing?" He pleaded. "I'm not gonna sleep all night, dear. Can't I have a few happy dreams with you?"_

"_Do you remember the dates? Do you remember the times?" Maggie protested. "You didn't forget them, did you?"_

"_I can't possibly ever forget them, as they're tattooed on my heart, Maggie. I can toss that paper away, but those times and dates have been carved into my soul and the scars will never fade," George protested. _

"_George…" Maggie whispered. "It's been so hard for you all these years…and the worst is yet to come, George. Promise me, when you wake up, you'll write down that information, and put it back into your wallet."_

_He shook his head, refusing to continue paying in more grief, and Maggie put her hands on his face._

"_George… please… Promise me that when you wake up, you'll write down that information, and put it back into your wallet. The time where you will meet them again is getting closer, whether you like it or not, and Captain Samantha Carter will need that information. You can't escape this George, in the future; you will put this all in motion, because in the past, you removed that piece of paper with those times and dates from her tactical vest. There is no escape from this paradox, George." _

_How did she know about the tactical vest?_

"_Why me?" George protested. "Why was I selected for this?"_

"_Because you're like Mansfield, George. You take care of your own, no matter what the cost," Maggie explained._

"_I should have taken better care of **you**. You're my wife. You're the mother of our children. You are my soulmate, and I will never love anyone like I love you. You deserved better from me. If I break this chain of events in the future…never set these events in motion, maybe we'll have more time together…" _

_He spat that, and Maggie shook her head._

"_No, George… don't you think that by not giving them that note in the future, you'll be able to change the past. You will change it, George… but you won't like the future. I'll still die from cancer, George. I will, George. But the worst part is everything will go to hell, George… You'll still be in the military, George… and when everything goes to hell, you'll know that you were the linchpin. And you'll know… that for the want of a nail…. The universe will be lost…And you will know… it will be your fault completely…The hammer is poised, George, and you are the nail. You can either withstand the pressure when the hammer hits or you'll shatter, George."_

"_You have the opportunity here and now to choose, to become something greater and nobler and more difficult than you have been before, George. The universe does not offer such chances lightly."_

_He stared at her, wondering about her intensity, what she had said and more importantly what she hadn't said. Then he made his decision or reaffirmed his decision that he hadn't made yet, knowing that he had no real choice in the matter, as the decision had been already made or will already be made, world without end, forever and ever amen!_

_George shook his head tiredly, admitting defeat. _

"_Death, my dear, has made you… rather melodramatic," he teased softly. "What would my father say if he heard a good Christian girl like you talking about the universe offering chances?"_

_Maggie looked annoyed and then she laughed when she realized that as always, he had bowed to her wishes. _

"_Your father was given the same choice, George. Why did you think he found God and sobered up? He had his role to play in this, as did Viviane, as did I."_

"_What was Viviane's role? To be killed by a drunk driver?" He spat._

"_In every branch of the military, who is the reason why so many prospects don't make a lifetime career of it? Who really makes the decision to be in for the short time? The wives, George, the spouses. They get tired of packing up and moving every two, three years. The kids get out of control because Daddy's never home; and the wives have to be the father and the mother. The spouses get tired, they want a real house, a real home, some place they can put roots down. They want their kids to go to a good school. They need stability, then they begin to crave it like a narcotic. It starts off with a few comments, then it progresses to nagging, then ultimatums."_

"_You never did that," George protested._

"_No, my role was to support you while you made General. I helped you get to the position you are now. If I really wanted you to leave the military, you have not made a lifetime career of it. You'd put it twenty years, maybe, maybe not, worked toward getting your pension, and then you would have moved on with your life. But you stayed in the military, because I supported your decision. Shelby Mansfield always made that truth crystal clear. I **married** a warrior, and I had to face that reality and accept the challenges that came with marrying a warrior. I supported you, through thick and thin, I kept the homefires burning…."_

"_And Viviane supported Jake," he said softly._

"_Her role in Jake, Samantha and Mark's future is still continuing, George. Jake's greatest adventure hasn't even **started** yet. One day, he'll meet someone who will be as close to him as Viviane was and that someone will be quite willing to kick him in the ass when he needs it. You and Jacob met in Alaska for a reason, George. Your friendship is important in the grand scheme of things."_

"_This event has been coming together for more years that you could possibly comprehend, George. You're just the Alpha and the Omega in all this. It starts and ends with you."_

_WHY ME, he felt like screaming. WHY ME?_

"_Did I make the right choice, Mags? Will I make the right decision?" _

"_Yes," she said. Her voice was strong in her conviction. "There wasn't even a chance of a snowball in Austin in August that you'd make the wrong decision. You'll find your faith again, George."_

"_Without you to keep an eye on me? I doubt it, darling. I do," he admitted. "I've lost my faith, dear; all that remains is this onerous obligation and heavy responsibility which I never wanted."_

_She shook her head, and then she kissed him. To hell with her appearing to be sixteen in his dreams, and him being a fifty, and not a young fifty, but a battered, bruised and badly scarred fifty, overwhelmed with a heart crushing grief, he just kissed her again and again, needing to feel her close to him. Yes, this was a dream, but sometimes… dreams could bring comfort. _

"_On the first night, whenever you came home from a godforsaken assignment that had kept us apart for far too long, what did I always do?" Maggie questioned. "I'd put the children to bed; put an album on the record player, I would pour the wine…we'd drink… and then…"_

"_We'd dance," George whispered. "And all the horrors I had witnessed, all grief… all the doubts…they'd fade from my mind…because I was holding you, and you made everything right in my world."_

"_Because I was strong enough to take your burdens, and give you peace," Maggie agreed in a soft voice. "We'd dance until you could tell me what was bothering you. You were my heart and my soul, and I was your equal partner in everything. You'll just have to walk these few yards without me, dear. You're strong enough to do it."_

"_No," he protested. "Not without you."_

_His wife smiled at him, and he must be cracking up, as he heard music playing softly. Maggie gave him a very crooked smile and she held out her hand._

"_Come on, we've still got time before you wake, George. Let's dance, dear," his wife offered. "One final dance until we meet on the other side, dear."_

"_I'll never stop loving you," George insisted._

"_I know that… but don't be surprised if one day, you realize that a short little spitfire has stolen your heart…"_

"_NEVER," he protested._

"_Of course," Maggie laughed. "But if you do find love again, I won't be angry…"_

_Someone said that in each life some rain is bound to fall_

_And each one sheds his share of tears_

_And trouble troubles us all_

_But the hurt can't hurt forever_

_And the tears are sure to dry_

_And it won't rain always_

_The clouds will soon be gone_

_The sun that they've been hiding has been there all along_

_He was dancing with his wife to a sad song played at her funeral. Then when they were both too tired to continue dancing, they started doing other delightful spousal type things. The kids were sleeping, so he and Maggie could have some private time… and…the wine was loosening his tight muscles… everything was going to be just fine… he had made it home in one piece from the Gulf… he was lying face down in his bed while his wife massaged his back muscles, especially that painful one right below his shoulder that always tensed up…. And then he was making love with the most beautiful woman in the entire world… _

_Mags always restored his soul…_

His head nodded and his head jerked instinctively.

Hard.

He looked at his watch, realized it had been two minutes since he had had sat down in the chair and that his daydream had almost dangerously turned into a dream. He stretched his neck. Damn, that chair was the most uncomfortable in the world… no… the universe… and he had a crick in his neck.

What a weird day dream, he thought. It must have been because he was thinking about the funeral, and how he had fallen asleep that night, clutching Maggie's robe.

He had woken the next morning after a deep sleep, and the first thing he had done upon waking, was scribble down the times and dates for the Time Travelers. He hadn't been able to explain his change of heart on the matter, but he had always chalked it up to Maggie unconditionally and unquestionably disapproving of his actions and letting him know in no uncertain terms.

"Maggie, why are you haunting me," he whispered. "Why all these memories? Are you trying to tell me something?"

Josh must be rolling in his grave, worrying about his son who was looking for personal advice from a spirit that wasn't Holy and one of the Trinity.

Maybe… just maybe… if he ever got out of this mess, he'd start attending church real regular-like. Or was that like a spiritual bribe?

He moved the smallest bowl of melted snow away the fire. It wasn't boiling, but it was warm enough, as he could barely carry it to the table without burning his cold hands. He dropped a tea packet in the water to give it time to stoop, and then he woke up Captain Carter.

"Morning, Captain. It's time for breakfast. We've got a great special today for breakfast, unsweetened hot tea."

She was groggy when she woke up, but she wasn't cranky like Jake was when he got short on sleep. Thank God for small favors, as Jake was a nasty grizzly bear when he was short-changed on sleep. Immediately she looked at her watch and then she began to protest.

"Sir, you were supposed to let me sleep for two hours, not eight. Did you test the Stargate?"

"Captain, there's no way we can make it to the Stargate. The wind has picked up and it's still snowing," he informed her. "Drink your tea. Wake me in four hours, and if you could, have some hot tea ready and the MRE ready. We'll split that for lunch."

He split the tea with her, nearly burning his lips in the process, but it was all too easy to dehydrate in conditions like this. You didn't want to drink too much due to the problems of … eliminating the fluids… but if you got dehydrated, you'd die.

The tea didn't help warm him up that much and he carefully unhooked his arm from the sling and experimented with it. The arm was stiff, but he could raise it… carefully.

"Take the bed, sir," Captain Carter insisted. "Plus the blanket on the chair."

"Will you be warm enough?" He questioned. "The building doesn't have much in the way of insulation."

'I'll be fine, Sir."

General Hammond nodded his head, and he carefully got into the bed. But he made damn sure that he left the spare blanket on the chair. He was from Texas, after all, and his father has made damn sure that he had raised his sons correctly.

* * *

Hammond let her sleep the night away, still hadn't eaten anything from his stash, and it was mainly his stash as she had contributed all of two candy bars and one power bar to the pot, insisted on leaving the spare blanket out so she could wrap it around herself and who was now asleep in the bed. 

Samantha walked for a bit, trying not to disturb the sleeping General, but her eyes kept getting drawn back to where the General was sleeping. Finally, she sat down in the chair, wrapped her self with the blanket and closed her eyes briefly.

_I don't understand you. _

_You look at SG1 with haunted eyes. _

_You know my father, but you never mention him to me. _

_I doubt you've ever forgiven me for making you climb a tree in your dress blues after my mom's funeral in front of a General, yet you act as though this is the first time we've met._

_You have never cracked a smile in SG1's direction, yet I've seen you laugh at Davis' jokes, inquire about Siler's daughter, and complain about the swill they serve as coffee to Luke the cafeteria guy._

_Yet, why do you stare at me… at SG1… like a doomed man who can't escape his fate?_

_Did you really meet a blonde haired blue eyes gypsy who predicted your future? Yes, it was a pack of lies, but God, that story had the ring of truth in it._

_I need to figure out what makes George S. Hammond, Major General tick. _

"What am I thinking? I need to get us home," Sam chastised herself, warning herself to get focused on the problem at hand and quickly!

She got out of the chair, her eyes cataloguing the limited inventory, hoping that perhaps they had miscounted the original inventory. Nope, two pairs of dry socks (Hammond), a Leatherman (Hammond), a couple knives (his and hers), two candy bars (hers!), assorted power bars, a small first aid kit, two radios with two spare batteries, three envelopes, two canteens, several handguns, P90 and lots of spare bullets, and a couple plastic ziplocks bags were enough to MacGyver a solution home.

"Damn it," Samantha cursed to the uncaring universe. "Where's MacGyver when you need him?"

She looked back at the sleeping General, who had fallen asleep almost immediately upon getting into the bed. He had pulled the knit cap down farther, to try and retain as much heat as possible from radiating off his bald dome.

"Though I guess you do look a little like Pete Thornton," she commented dryly.

She looked out the window, couldn't see much due the blizzard like conditions and so she returned back to her chair.

"Damn it, Sam, you forgot the most important part. The Condoms! MacGyver could create an interstellar spaceship from them, using the radio batteries for an energy source."

* * *

O'Neill had a **_headache_**. 

A Major General George S. Hammond sized headache.

With George's size 13 steel toed boots kicking him in the eye at every heartbeat.

Which is why he was ignoring Walter Davis' insistent attempts at getting his attention.

No, his murderous headache was why he wanted to kill Rodney McKay, so called Gate-Expert. So called Self-described Gate Expert because Rodney the Mouth that Roared just kept going on and on about how smart he was.

"She must be a blond? I just love dumb blondes," Rodney snarked. "Her notes about the gate are so…. Informative."

He had pleasantly daydreamed of defenestrating Rodney, until he reminded himself that being that they were located several stories UNDER Cheyenne Mountain, there was no window of which to throw Rodney through, except for the Gate Room Window, and probably George would be pissed if when he returned back to the base, the first thing he noticed was a broken Gate Room Window.

Yes, **_WHEN_**, not IF.

"You better not be talking about my daughter," snapped a male voice.

Everyone in the room stood up quickly, when they saw two men in dress blues with a literal galaxy of stars between them resting on their shoulders and O'Neill glared at Davis.

_I tried warning you_, Davis mouthed.

"So, are you?" The balding man snapped at Rodney. "That dumb blonde comment? Was that directed towards Captain Samantha Carter?"

"Jacob," General Ryan said in a polite voice. "Before you kill him, do you think I can get an update on the situation? Colonel O'Neill, this is Major General Jacob Carter."

"Sir," O'Neill nodded his head.

Carter gave him a briefest of glances, acknowledging him quickly before turning his murderous eyes back on McKay. But in that brief instance, O'Neill thought that Carter's father looked ill. Maybe it was in how the man stood, maybe it was hollowed cheeks, but Major General Jacob Carter looked …_unwell._

O'Neill introduced everyone to the Generals quickly, but when he mentioned Davis' name, General Carter looked away from McKay to glance at Davis. Jacob appeared surprised to see the slight, balding man.

"Walter Davis?" Carter questioned. "Are you and… Siler… both here?"

"Yes, Sir," Davis answered easily.

"Odds are pretty poor that you were stationed here originally. George must have pulled you two in when things got exciting?" Carter asked, then continued, not waiting for Davis to answer. "Is Siler working on the situation? He **_must_** be. Ask him to please take a few minutes out of his time to give an update on the situation. I know he's busy, but I'm sure he has much to add to the conversation."

"Yes, Sir," Davis agreed before disappearing from the room at a fast clip.

"Mike, George trusts Siler and Davis. Recommend that you listen to anything that they might have to add to the conversation," Jake Carter paused then looked at McKay, before obviously dismissing him.

"Jacob, I've done a few of these rescue missions before, you know," Mike Ryan said dryly. "Perhaps not on another planet…"

"Yes, Sir," Jake quickly answered, acknowledging that Ryan had politely slapped him down.

* * *

"Shall we begin?" Ryan requested after Siler made his appearance. Walter Davis was also commanded to take a seat. "First things first, we're still considering this a rescue mission. The reports indicate that there was a subsequent power fluxation recorded here after the outgoing gate was apparently hit by enemy fire." 

Jacob Carter nodded a brief acknowledgement at Siler and Siler nodded back.

_They knew each other but from where? _Jack wondered.

"Dr. McKay reports that the energy was transferred through the event horizon where our gate apparently grounded the charge. General Hammond and Captain Carter were in the buffer when the first surge occurred," Ryan explained. "Jacob…."

Carter was used to debriefings, as he took his cue and ran with it.

"Our experts at the Pentagon have been running simulations on what happens when the outgoing gate and the incoming gate are incapacitated. Normally, the patterns would be held in the buffer, but in this case, the buffer was literally fried by the amount of power coming into it," Jake Carter explained dryly. "It appears that the personnel were on the cusp of exiting the wormhole, when the gates went down. Due to the amount of fails safes and protocols that must be inherit in such a system…"

Major General Jacob Carter paused, and O'Neill saw for a brief moment, the concern for his daughter he was trying to hide from everyone. Maybe it wasn't illness that made Carter's father looked haggard, but the strain of his daughter being off world. And the use of the General Hammond's first name seemed to imply a familiarity or even a friendship between the two men. A daughter and a friend trapped off world… that was tough. Even tougher than losing your CO and 2IC off world, Jack had to admit.

"The Pentagon believes that General Hammond and Captain Carter were sent to another gate," Jacob Carter stated unequivocally.

"No," McKay said immediately. "It's a closed system. The one gate sends, and the other receives. It's not the turnpike where you decide if you want to get off at different exit."

Jake Carter pounced on McKay quickly, "Doctor, perhaps you have forgotten the Law of Conservation of Energy. The law states that the total inflow of energy into a system must equal the total outflow of energy from the system, plus the change in the energy contained within the system. In other words, energy can be converted from one form to another, but it cannot be created nor destroyed."

It was apparent where Carter got her brains from, as Jake Carter and Rodney McKay were busy disagreeing about the various laws of physics. While Carter didn't have McKay's knowledge, he was opinionated and not afraid to tell Rodney off. It was rather enjoyable watching Jake vivisect McKay into a thousand little pieces, but finally Ryan had to ruin the fun. Naturally, McKay the Mouth got the last results.

"Look, I'm the expert here, not you, so don't even suggest triangulating the vectors of a vessel firing on a gate based on the conductivity of the Stargate metal, and the size of the wormhole's event horizon verses the delta of the increased power through the gate at the time of the meltdown, General," McKay snapped. "It's not going to do anything, you understand? Why don't you Generally go somewhere and leave the gate to me?"

"General Carter, Dr. McKay, enough," Ryan warned softly. "Dr. McKay, last time I looked, you were on the USAF payroll, are you not?"

McKay's little rat eyes flickered back and forth.

"You are," Ryan said easily. "That means you will treat my personnel with the respect they are entitled too. Now, Dr. Lee?"

General Carter glared at McKay, plainly saying, "Just push me once more… and you won't live to regret it" with his eyes.

"That especially includes Sgt. Siler," Carter inserted in a soft whisper to McKay, that O'Neill barely heard. "Is that understood, Doctor? I may not have a doctorate in astrophysics like my daughter, but I have enough of a science background to know when you're bullshitting because you don't have a goddamn clue."

Bill Lee then reported loudly and … inconclusively…about anything and everything, Jack noticed. McKay almost got snotty but a nasty look from Carter's father settled the Doctor right down. But Siler, Siler was the bright ray of Sergeantly Sunshine at the meeting.

"We've got the gate back online. We need to run diagnostics before we send anything living through the gate."

"How long?" Ryan questioned.

"A few hours," Siler admitted reluctantly.

"Why didn't anyone tell me this?" McKay protested loudly.

"You were in the cafeteria… eating…" Siler stated quietly.

"I'm hypoglycemic," McKay protested. "Plus your chef and I use that term loosely, only had lemon chicken for the entrée. I'm allergic to citritus…"

"Very well, Dr. McKay, Dr. Lee will oversee the diagnostic. Colonel O'Neill, I want to speak to … Tilk…" Ryan talked over McKay easily, even while McKay was explaining what would happen if he accidentally had a piece of citrus.

O'Neill savagely shut down the thought he was merrily processing, to take a wedge of Lemon and squirt it at McKay, much like holy water. **_Back, foul demon! Back! _**

Would copious amounts of steam pour off McKay's body? Much like a demon sprinkled with holy water? Would he yell, "I'm Melting! I'm Melting!" like the Wicked Witch?

"Teal'c, T-E-A-L-'-C," O'Neill offered.

Ryan gave him a very slight narrowing of the eyes, which translated into, "_Don't push me, Airman_".

"Very well then, we'll meet back here in two hours, unless we have good news to report by then. Colonel, if you'll come with me? I want to actually take a look at that galactic monstrosity down there, up close and personal," Ryan decided.

With that, the meeting was dismissed. Major General Carter quickly cut off Davis and Siler off at the pass and began talking to them energetically. O'Neill could hear …_Dad… _asking Davis how his wife was doing, and he appeared generally delighted to hear that Davis' wife was almost six years clean.

_**Weird. What was that supposed to mean?**_

O'Neill picked up some paperwork, shuffled it so he could eavesdrop.

"I'm glad you two are here," Carter told the Sergeants. "George thinks extremely highly of both of you, and that's very reassuring for me, as not only is George out there, somewhere, but so's my daughter. I know that you'll do your best, and I appreciate that greatly. Now, I have to go be a pitbull with that McKay fellow. He gives you any more problems, please left me know."

The two sergeants then tried to escape but O'Neill grabbed then, ignoring Ryan's annoyed look.

"Just talking to the two sergeants," he explained breezily, before he turned to face the two men. He lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard. "How well do you know Carter's father? Are he and General Hammond friends? His daughter's out there, is he friends with George? I need to know…"

"He was a pall bearer at the Maggie Hammond's funeral," Siler explained. "As we both were. I'm surprised he remembered us, it's been a couple years… and he had flown in specifically for the funeral. I think it was an eighteen hour flight one way."

That done, the Intel received, Jack knew he had to show the two Generals the Gate.

"Siler, mind giving the Generals the fifty cents tour of the gate?"

* * *

There wasn't much for Siler to say. Both Generals were suitably awed by the sheer size of the Gate and Siler quickly ran down the events that had caused Hammond and Captain Carter to be stranded off world. 

In the background, he could hear McKay complaining about something, and he ushered the Generals out of the room. The Two Generals, naturally, ignored him except for instructing him to show them where Teal'c is.

"McKay certainly is…" Ryan sighed.

"Annoying," Jake Carter offered helpfully. "He's the **_best_**?"

"Besides your daughter, yes," Ryan explained. "Unfortunately, your daughter's not available for a consult right now."

"She's with George," Jake insisted, even as the two Generals walked into the elevator slowly, causing O'Neill to have to hop in order to get into the elevator before it closed. "George can handle himself, so the two of them are fine."

"Jacob," Ryan protested. "Face the facts, there's a small chance that they got spit out of the gate exactly where they entered it. They could be in a lot of trouble right now. They even could be…"

Jacob shook his head in denial, "No, they're not dead."

"Pardon me?" O'Neill jumped in. "I haven't been getting my memos apparently. You're saying…"

"Some of the geeks at the Pentagon believe that because the incoming wormhole shut down before the buffer was ready to move their patterns out of … memory…. that they might have been sent back to the outgoing wormhole," Jake explained. "The problem is, the huge power surge destroyed most of the hardware so we can't be sure if they left the gate system… or what… Most of the geeks believe that because the incoming and outgoing wormholes both had major power surges and the buffer being wiped clean and reinitialized when the gate came back up, that the gate system threw them out at another gate."

"McKay believes otherwise," Ryan explained. "As do some of the Pentagon geeks. We're right now in the field of theoretical physics for most of them. The Gate is so far beyond their comprehension that I think they're just guessing. Sorry, Jake, you deserve to know the truth."

"My daughter's not dead. I'd **_know_** if she were dead," Carter said firmly.

"Hopefully this alien…" the elevator door opened and everyone exited quickly as Ryan continued easily, "Has some working knowledge of the Gate."

The three of them stopped before Teal'c quarters. O'Neill gestured and the two guards stepped away quietly.

"I want to talk to him," Jake informed Ryan. "You'll be the big guns; I'll be the concerned father. Let's see what information I can get from him."

Ryan agreed and then Carter turned to face Jack. "Tell me about this… alien… Does he have a family? Does he have children?"

* * *

Teal'c was intent on achieving kel'no'reem, when he heard a knock on his door. Fortunately, his need for kel'no'reem was not great, so he stood up, and bid them enter. Perhaps it was Daniel Jackson, who had stopped by several times already just to... chat… and deliver large quantities of chocolate deserts. 

"Teal'c," O'Neill entered the room first, and then appeared startled by the amount of lit candles in the room. "Geez, T, got enough candles lit?"

Oftentimes O'Neill made comments that O'Neill appeared not to need an answer to, as the man seemed to enjoy hearing himself talk. Plus, O'Neill obviously thought himself quite the wit, so Teal'c oftentimes deliberately failed to laugh at O'Neill's witticism as he knew O'Neill was disappointed when others failed to appreciate his humor.

Master Bra'tac would have been frustrated with O'Neill's levity. "_A warrior must learn to make every act count, since he is going to be here in this world for only a short while, in fact, too short for witnessing all the marvels of it_," was one of the old Jaffa's favorite quote_."Life is too short for levity." _

Teal'c waited for the two other men to enter the room. One was balding and wore the rank insignia that General Hammond bore and there was another man behind him. The other man appeared to be higher ranked than O'Neill and the other Major Generals. Both Generals appeared startled by amount of candles lit in his room.

Ah. These Tau'Ri were obviously not familiar with kel'no'reem.

Regally, he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Tek'ma'tae," Teal'c greeted them formally. "Tal mal'tiak mal we'ia."

"Right back atcha, T," O'Neill said quickly. "He's greeting you formally. The second comment implies a very high level of respect and honor. This is General Michael Ryan, the USAF Chief of Staff, and this other gentlemen…"

"I'm General Jacob Carter, I'm Captain Carter's father," stated the other man that wore the same rank that Hammond possessed. He was obviously not one for what O'Neill called small talk.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance, General," Teal'c stated once more. "Your daughter is a formidable warrior."

Teal'c was surprised when the General quirked a smile and looked at Ryan before commenting, "That's my Sammy. Takes after her mother that way."

Ah. The Tau'Ri women were strong folk, and the source of much pride to their male kindred. Odd, for a race that appeared relatively unscathed by the Goa'uld to have such regard.

Most less technology advances races viewed their womenfolk as… delicate.

Then the General turned to face Teal'c and motioned for him to sit at the table. Teal'c sat on one side of the table, while General Carter sat on the opposite side.

"Do you think it would be possible to have something to drink?" Carter asked O'Neill. "What would you like?"

He gestured at Teal'c and Teal'c stated that he was not thirsty and needed not to quench his thirst.

"Teal'c, did I pronounce that correctly?" General Carter asked.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I want to talk to you about what happened to General Hammond and my daughter. Do you have children, Teal'c?" Samantha Carter's father asked.

Up until now, Teal'c had denied the existence of Drey'auc and Rya'c, having accepted the fact that his willingness to fight the Goa'uld for the Tau'ri would be called into question, especially with Drey'auc and Rya'c living under the rule of Apophis. The denial of his family pained him greatly, and the wound opened anew when he denied their existence to Samantha Carter's father.

"No, General Carter, I have not been blessed with children."

Carter stared at him for a moment, and Teal'c realized that a perspective Jacob Carter had heard something in his tone of voice, or had seen something in his eyes when he had spoken that lie.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to speak with Teal'c alone," Jacob Carter requested. "It'll be ok, Mike. I can handle this."

Mike Ryan left only after wordlessly conveying his belief that Jacob Carter was a few bottles short of a six-pack. O'Neill exited the room also, only after being pointedly shown the door by Ryan.

"Teal'c," Jacob's voice was soft when he began again. "So… no kids?"

"None," Teal'c stated unequivocally.

Jake Carter gave him a long look, before quirking a smile. "Fine, you can continue to deny, and I won't push the issue. I'll just have to explain something to you, and you'll have to try and understand my viewpoint. I've been in the military for pretty close to forty years now. How about you?"

"I had been in the service of Apophis for much longer than that," Teal'c reminded him pointedly.

"Ah, I keep forgetting. You're a lot older than I am, which is rather surprising as you look younger than me. It's also surprising that you haven't settled down, haven't had any children," Carter paused, and then began again. "I keep forgetting, you don't have any children, so you can't even begin to comprehend what I'm going through right now. To know that your child is on another planet. That she could be in a lot of trouble right now. Could be ill, could be hurt… she even could be dead…"

"As a military man," Jacob Carter paused again. "I'm sure you can't even begin to understand what it must have been like for my daughter. I wasn't there during the times she was growing up, as I away from home, fighting in some goddamn foreign country."

Teal'c nodded his head, trying not to show his strong reaction to that comment. He retreated further behind his stone-faced persona, trying not to show Samantha Carter's father that he could far too easily understand the pain that Jacob Carter was experiencing.

What would he be doing if it was Rya'c and Master Bra'tac?

He'd be taking the chappa'ai apart, piece by piece, trying to make it operational again.

"Let me show you a picture I have of her," Jacob Carter continued easily. "Don't ever let her know that I let you see this picture."

Carter reached into his pocket, pulled out a well-worn black and white picture of a young blond girl in a beautiful dress. Her hair was neatly done in curls and ribbons, and the entire effect was ruined by the fact that the little girl's face was red and scrunched up from crying.

"That was taken when she was …. Four, I think. Her grandmother sent the dress up. Sammy hated it. Didn't want to wear it, and when her mother and I had finally calmed her down, and shoved her into the dress, we needed to take a picture of her. Anyway, she started sobbing uncontrollably," Jake then laughed, "It's not a very good picture of my daughter. I have better ones, but I've always kept it. You know why?"

"To cause great embarrassment to Captain Carter?" Teal'c said strongly.

His quick retort caused General Carter great amusement.

After General Carter had stopped laughing, he continued, "You're pretty funny for an alien, Teal'c. After all, humor is rather subjective… No… it's a reminder that even back then Samantha was bound and determined to be her own person. And just because I wanted her to wear that dress just to make my mother-in-law happy, didn't mean Samantha was going to do it. It also reminds me that as her father, I will do everything in my power to make sure that she doesn't get hurt too badly when she's busy being her own person. Do you understand me, Teal'c?" Jacob Carter questioned.

"Indeed, General Carter," Teal'c answered.

"I've been in the service for a long time. I've met a lot of people like you… well… somewhat like you… you know…they changed sides in the middle of a war due to their personal beliefs. If they can, they bring their families over with them… they often offer to help in exchange for their family's safety. And those… that can't get their families out… you know… sometimes… they deny having a family. Do you have any idea why, Teal'c?"

"No, I do not," Teal'c answered evenly, becoming more uncomfortable.

"I've read the reports; I know you've sworn to Hammond that you have no family ties on … Chulak. I don't believe you, Teal'c. I know that you lied to George about it. No doubt you thought that George would believe that you'd be dangerous, and that you are far too easy to compromise. Families can be taken hostage, and that makes you vulnerable. George will be angry that you lied to him, but that's between you and him. I won't tell anyone, Teal'c, but you have to promise me that you'll do everything to help me get my daughter home. Will you do that?" Jake questioned.

"I do not have any family on Chulak," Teal'c informed the General. His denial sounded false to his own ears and General Carter shook his head.

"Bull shit. My Spidey sense says that you're **_lying_**," Carter snapped.

"I do not know of this Spidey sense," retorted Teal'c. "It is wrong, never the less."

"Is it a boy? A girl? Both?" Carter questioned. "I know. It's a **_son_**, isn't it? He's getting old enough to be conscripted, isn't he? Soon he'll be trained in the ideologies of the false god you're trying to save your people from."

"I have no son," Teal'c responded angrily.

"He'll have a rough road to walk, being your son, conscripted into Apophis' army," Jake continued.

The General stopped for a moment, took a long sip of water and then wiped his brow.

"Teal'c," Jacob Carter paused before he continued softly. "Your best bet of saving your son right now is George Hammond. Do you understand that? There's no one else in the world that has his horse sense."

"First Spidey, now Horse, I do not understand these senses of which you speak," protested Teal'c. "Perhaps you Tau'ri have developed new senses over the years. Irregardless, they are giving you inaccurate information."

"George can look at people and judge them correctly. He probably knows that there's something not right about your story about not having kids, but he's letting it slide, because for some reason… he thinks he needs you. You know why you're not in Area 51 right now? Being examined? Hammond. **_Hammond_** fought with the President of the United States to keep you here. You **_owe_** Hammond."

"I do not need you to remind me of my obligations, General Carter," Teal'c stood up and walked away from the table.

"Just wanted to suggest to you, that for whatever reason you decide to help my daughter and George return to the base, that you keep that reason firmly in your mind. So, Teal'c, I'm sure you'll be quite helpful in answering our questions about the gate," General Carter said calmly, before taking another long sip of water.

The General stood up, and Teal'c turned to face him.

"I have already informed O'Neill that I am unable to assist him. I do not have the sufficient knowledge of the gates. It is whispered, that the Chappa'ai were not built by the Goa'uld, but instead, by others."

"Teal'c? Did you do this deliberately? In the chance of getting back into your false god's good graces? You know, present him with an Air Force General whose knowledge of Earth's defenses would be quite useful in determining our planetary weakness."

"No, I did not. General Hammond wished to go off world, to experience gate travel first hand. A seasoned leader can **_not_** expect those underneath his command to do what he has not," Teal'c stated firmly. "I chose a world I believed to be safe..."

"And it wasn't," Jake interrupted.

"Yes, what has happened to General Hammond and Captain Carter is my fault," admitted Teal'c slowly and regretfully. "I take responsibility for that. It was… unintentional."

"Swear to me on your non-existent son that you're telling me the truth," Carter requested. "You have no knowledge of the gate that could help us get my daughter home?"

"I so swear," Teal'c vowed.

Jacob Carter stared into his eyes for a long while, before nodding his head.

"I believe you. Just a suggestion, you need to tell George about your family. He'll understand why you did it, because he's a family man. But he better hear it from you, Teal'c," Carter explained.

General Carter left the room, and Teal'c felt a moment's compassion for Samantha having to deal with Jacob Carter as a father.

* * *

"I doubt he knows anything useful about Gate Technology, Sir," Jake said to Ryan. "I believe him when he says that." 

Jack was about to zing both generals with something suitably respectful yet refreshingly caustic when Siler's voice came over the PA.

"Colonel O'Neill to the control room," Siler's voice sounded… positive, so Jack started trotting down to the Control Room, making sure that both Generals could keep up with his pace.

After all, and he would admit this to no one but himself, if he hadn't decided to put Hammond through his paces and make him do a twenty mile jog off world, the Old Man would have been closer to the gate when all hell had broken loose.

* * *

George woke up, disorientated at first, and then the reality of the situation hit him face first. He was cold, he was in a creaky wooden bed and there was the distinct smell of wood smoke in the air. 

**_Off world, broken Gate, all my fault, Jake's gonna kill me. _**

Next rational thought was that his bellybutton was eating his backbone. He glanced at his watch, figured it was close to thirty six hours since he had a cup of coffee and a powerbar for a pre-dawn breakfast.

"Sir?" Captain Carter's voice was soft, barely audible.

**_Ah. She was giving him the option of sleeping in, as he had done for her. She could say that she had tried to wake him, but that he had continued sleeping. _**

_**God! It was tempting! No! No! Generals do NOT sleep! Get out of bed, Airman!**_

"I'm up," he rumbled. "Still here?"

"Yes, but it's stopped snowing," Captain Carter said in a very positive voice. "The sun's out."

"Need to try the Gate," Hammond decided. "Turn on your radio. I'll take the GDO, and make the first attempt."

Naturally Jake Carter's daughter wasn't having any of that shit.

"Sir," Carter protested, her blue eyes intense. "You don't know…"

"Draw the symbols for the coordinates you thought were the most promising to get home. I'll try them, and go from there. You're not going out there," Hammond stated. "I have cold weather experience, do you?"

She began protesting and he just stared at her until she ran out of steam. He found that often times just staring unblinkingly at the person while they protested, would often times cause their stream of protests to dwindle off into short spasms of dissent. The "Mansfield Technique", so called as he had witnessed first hand the Master of intimidation, General Tommy Mansfield utilizing it, even worked on O'Neill.

"You get marks for your enthusiasm, Captain," he told her dryly. "But unless I remember your service record wrong, there's only one person here in the room that's served in Alaska. It's windy, it's cold, and I'm guessing that we'll need to break a path to the Gate."

"In all due respect, Sir, I'm the resident Gate expert," Carter protested.

"Which is why you need to be here. Where it's warm, Captain. Anything happens to you, be it hostiles, be it freezing to death, be it you being eaten by the local equivalent of a wooly mammoth, and I'm permanently stuck on this planet. Anything happens to me, you've still got a chance to get off this world," Hammond protest.

"If the gate doesn't work, I come back here but I'll be freezing. Good chance that I'll have hypothermia, since I'm wearing hot weather BDUs. Get as much hot fluid in me as possible, Captain. If you have to pour it down my throat, you better, as I'll probably be too frizzed to do that."

"Frizzed?" Carter asked.

"Technical term," he retorted. "Put the blankets as close to the fire that you can. If I get back, I'll need to get out of my BDUs quickly as I'll be wet and cold. You might need to help me as my hand coordination one of the first things to go when I'm hypothermic."

Her eyes appeared startled and George knew she was thinking about the goddamn condoms.

"I'll have something to change into, Captain," he snapped. "Now if you don't mind, turn around, stare at the wall until I tell you can turn around. That's an order, Captain."

* * *

For a moment, she was wondering if she should sneak a peak while Hammond got out of and back into his bdus. The general was hurrying, she figured, as she heard him softly curse at the cold. 

She really should sneak a peak just because it was the only chance she'd ever have of seeing a two star undressed.

Because she was going to get court martialed anyway when she got back, no doubt, so might as well make it for something really worthwhile!

**_Yes, Sir, I peaked at Hammond when he was changing. I was wondering if it's true that Texans are bigger! _**

_**And you know what?**_

**_To misquote Lili Von Shtupp from Blazing Saddles: Is it true how zey say zat Texans are... gifted? _**

_**Oh. It's twue. It's twue.**_

"I'm respectable," Hammond informed her.

Naturally, being a class A overachiever, he already had stripped the bed of the blankets, and had them folded closely to the fire. She also noticed that there was a neat pile of socks and a t-shirt sitting next to the fire, with…

Oooh hoo! Now she'd know for certain, boxers or briefs. Boxers, she thought. Two stars always wore boxers, she thought. Special Forces went commando.

Mentally, she slapped herself. She was getting slaphappy!

He pulled the knit cap down further down, put his sun glasses on, and then he took the clean socks off the table. One set he tied together and then placed around his mouth and nose, to provide a slight barrier against the cold wind and he put the others on his hands.

"Scarf and mittens," he explained shortly. "Where's the sheet with the symbols?"

She handed it to him as she had already drawn them out while she had watched him sleep. Then General Hammond nodded his head after reviewing it.

"Hopefully we can gate out. I'll let you know if there's anything"

"Sir, I want to state for the record, I'm protesting," Carter retorted. "You shouldn't go out there by yourself, Sir. What if there are hostiles?"

"Your concern is duly noted, Captain," Hammond retorted. "Last time I looked, neither of us are dressed for this little escapade. I'm built like an Eskimo, you're not. Your boots aren't water proof, and that is a recipe for frostbite."

"In all due respect, Sir," Carter retorted. "You need back up."

"And I'm not telling your father that I let you freeze to death. If we were dressed for this little escapade, yes, I'd use you as backup, but I have to weigh my concerns over my personal safety over the fact that anyone who is going out there will develop hypothermia. I have a choice between one person, that being me, or both of us becoming hypothermic," Hammond snapped. "This is a direct order, Captain Carter. You are to stay here, unless I say otherwise."

She glared at him, and he decided to ignore it, rather than writing her up for mental insubordination.

"Captain, there is **_no_** doubt in my mind that you are your parents' daughter," Hammond informed her. "But thank God, you look like Viv because looking like Jake would be too much of a cross for any female to bear."

As he no doubt expected, that comment about her parents pushed her off balance. While she was still trying to formulate a response, Hammond exited the small room. She soon saw him through the small window, trying to break a path to the Gate. The snow was easily three feet high.

* * *

Shit. Shit. When he opened the door to go outside, he had to push it hard, in order for it to open. Three feet of snow, easily on the ground in front of him, blinding white and goddamn cold. He was almost tempted to go back into the other room and tell Captain Carter that they'd wait to be rescued. 

Yeah. But **_nobody_** had **_any_** idea where they were.

Therefore, he put one foot in front of the other and began making the arduous trip to the Stargate, breaking a path through the thigh high snow.

**_Shit. I might as well put a sign up saying, "We're here! Come on over for drinks."_**

Well. Time to prove to everyone, especially to himself, that he deserved the stars on his shoulders.

* * *

It took almost twenty minutes to break a path to the Gate, and before he was halfway there, he knew that he was in a hell of a lot of trouble. Fortunately, he had brought his sunglasses; else he would have been snowblind from the glare of the high noon sun on the white snow. It was bitterly cold and there was a brisk wind that went through his BDUs as though he wasn't wearing a damn thing. 

He had debated about wearing his boxers, then being a pragmatist, he figured he better have something dry to change into when he got back to their little home, sweet home, and what he'd would be wearing then **_better_** cover the essentials.

By the time he got to the Gate, he was shivering so hard he could barely wipe off the DHD with his sock covered fist. Fortunately, he had quickly memorized the symbols that Captain Carter thought the most promising toward getting home, so he quickly punched in the symbols.

He nearly yelled **_YEEEEE HAWWWWW_** when the gate opened and **_stayed_** open.

Quickly he punched in the GDO code, cursing as cold made his hands thick and clumsy. Then he grabbed his radio, and keyed the mike.

"This is Hammond. Do you copy?"

* * *

The control room was literally buzzing with excitement by the time O'Neill got there. 

"We were finishing the gate diagnostics," Siler explained. "When the gate started lighting up. Naturally, we got the hell out of there before the wormhole opened."

"Is it Hammond?" O'Neill snapped.

"There are a lot of power fluctuations still," Rodney inserted loudly. "The gate's not safe for traveling."

"Well, is it?" O'Neill snapped.

"We're getting a voice transmission and what appears to be a GDO code as it's broadcasting on the frequency for GDOs, but the transmissions need to be cleaned up," Daniel explained. The linguist was feeling survivor's guilt about getting off world and Carter not, so he had spent a great deal of effort in keeping Siler from killing McKay… deliberately… though Siler was a bit accident prone, so O'Neill had mentally promised to look the other way if something accidentally happened to McKay.

"Sir, l'm suggesting that we put two teams on standby in case it's Hammond and he needs to be extricated. Also requesting Teal'c be brought here in case we need his Intel. If it is indeed the two of them calling in from another planet, he might have needed Intel on that planet," O'Neill said. "Suggesting we have a med team on standby also."

When the chips were down, O'Neill could and would be deadly serious, and the flippancy he used to deal with most everyday occurrences was long gone.

"Make it so," Ryan agreed.

* * *

Damn it, he was hearing something on the radio, which meant that somebody or someone was hearing his transmission and responding, but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. 

"Captain Carter, can you hear me?" His hands were getting too stiff to hold the radio, but he managed to key it again.

"Yes, Sir," she answered quickly.

"Any idea what I'm hearing? The wormhole doesn't look normal. Its looks more like… a whirlpool rather than the …..regular pool of blue," Hammond cursed himself, wishing he could describe the whirling, churning blue pool better.

If the wormhole was normally a calm, cool pool of galactic blue, this was an angry, swirling cosmic maelstrom.

**_We're between Scylla and Charybdis. We have a choice between an ugly whirlpool and freezing to death. _**

"I'd suggest that you keep talking, Sir. Keep the wormhole open for a few more minutes, because if we're reached the SGC, they'll need to modulate the frequency adapter. There could be damage due to the power spike."

Samantha Carter went on for some time about what the SGC would be trying to do if they were on the other side of the wormhole, but he was getting damn cold. He wasn't shivering anymore which was a bad sign. He needed to send them a sign but nothing too obvious if he had gotten the wrong number.

Too damn cold.

Every little brain cell in his all too empty, bald head was freezing, he couldn't think clearly…

**_I'm sorry, did I dial Apophis' home world? I was actually looking for the upstart Earthlings. You know, the ones that dropped an A-Bomb on Ra's last little tea party._**

I need something to send them… a voiceless message that will mean nothing to anyone except for the SGC.

Something **_unique_**.

Impossible to be mistaken.

**_Maggie? I need help here. Darling?_**

Memories came to mind.

O'Neill throwing a tissue box into the wormhole, some way that Jackson would know he was being contacted by friendlies. Jackson with his allergies, the ceaseless sniffling, the non-stop sneezing….

Mags was lying in his arms. The two of them were wearing nothing except a set of dog tags twixt the two of them. Maggie was holding onto his dog tags, and he was kissing her…

**_His dog tags_**.

He stopped kissing her, and she gave him a leer.

_They're the only ones in the entire universe, George. How much more unique than that do you want?_

**_MAGGIE! When I get out of here, I'm taking a quick trip to Texas so I can deliver you two dozens roses! _**

He'd throw them through the gate. If it was the SGC, they'd understand. If it wasn't, well, the person on the receiving end wouldn't understand.

The General ripped them off his neck, and threw them into the wormhole. Then Hammond began jogging back to the guardhouse, trying not to slip in the snow, knowing that if he fell, he wasn't getting back up again.

"This is Hammond. Captain Carter, I'm returning now."

He hoped that she understood what he was saying… knowing that his voice was growing more and more slurred due to hypothermia induced by the extreme cold.

It was too damn cold. He had stopped shivering a while ago and his thoughts were scattering like birds disturbed by buck shot except for one thought that he kept repeating, Captain Carter would have been frozen long before now.

George fell face forwards into the freezing snow when he tripped over something that was hidden beneath the blanket of white. Yeah. That was his excuse even though he long had lost feeling in his feet. Blearily, he stared at the snow, wondering why he was fighting.

So tired… if he closed his eyes for just a moment….

What the hell was going on? He was just a poor boy from Texas, who wanted to fly… what the hell was he doing off world… freezing to death as he was wetter than an unhousebroken puppy and the brisk wind was colder than a mother-in-law's hard heart.

**_Viv… I'm sorry… I killed your daughter…. Jake… I'm so sorry…_**

**_Mags… darling? _**

**_Why aren't you here? I hoped that you'd be here with me at the end… I don't want to die alone… not like this…

* * *

_**

Jack was getting more and more certain that whatever that transmission was, it was a rather exasperated George Hammond, was probably growing increasingly aggravated at the lack of response from the SGC. Walter Davis kept repeating, "Please identify yourself," until the Chevon guy was in danger of losing his voice. The wormhole was still open, the noise was being transmitted regularly… it had to be **_someone_** was trying to contact them.

But they had a gate coordinate thanks to the Gate's version of Caller IDs. Half of the geeks were running simulations to find out where the hell they were and the general consensus was that Hammond and Carter were on the **_opposite_** side of the galaxy. Teal'c was still on his way to the Control Room, but O'Neill hoped that Teal'c would know something about the planet.

The rest of the scientists were filtering the noise through various different modulators and multiplexers in their attempt to figure out what their missing members were saying when something came through the worm hole. The teams standing guard in the gateroom were vigilantly waiting for the unexpected to happen. But the teams weren't expecting anything physically to be **_flung_** through the wormhole to land with a clatter on the ramp, and so they nearly went into full scale attack mode until they realized it wasn't being followed by anything else. The Gate shut down with a mighty hiccup, as who ever was calling in decided to hang up as he was probably worried about the long distance roaming charges.

"What is it?" O'Neill called down.

Major Ferretti, all around good guy with a level head in Jack's opinion, went up to it cautiously, and then scooped it up. He stared at whatever it was in his hand, then looked up towards the control room. His expression was one of …. uncertainty.

"It's Dog Tags, Sir… They're Hammond's… but something's happened to them. They're twisted and bent."


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU. In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

Ok This started out slightly AU, but then Jacob Carter demanded that he be allowed to play, and so to stop his rather insistent voice, I went completely AU. Don't you just hate it when Secondary Characters REFUSE to behave themselves and demand to be front and center?

WIP

* * *

"Teal'c!" Jack exclaimed loudly, even as he tapped the computer screen in front of him, much to the annoyance of Sgt. Davis. "Hammond's dog tags just came through the Gate from this location. Can you look at the coordinates? Do they look familiar? Do you know anything about this planet?" 

The former First Prime of Apophis, and now freedom fighter, outcast and apostate peered at the coordinates on the computer screen. His eyebrow arched and O'Neill felt the first glimmer of hope since he had landed on the gate ramp face first and realized that he had left two members behind in the midst of a fire fight.

"Indeed, they are quite familiar…" Teal'c stated solemnly. "It was formerly under the control of Ra. When Ra was eliminated, Apophis attempted to take control of the planet. The population refused, and so Apophis…."

Teal'c paused.

"Exterminated them. There is no human life left on that planet. It was to be a warning to all those who dared stand against Apophis."

"Exterminated? Are you talking biological weapons, Teal'c?" General Ryan snapped. "A plague?"

"No," Teal'c paused. "I and the rest of Apophis' Jaffa were required to round the population up and open fire on them. Women holding mere babes in their arms, young children, their deaths mattered not to Apophis, except to demonstrate his strength."

Teal'c looked at O'Neill, and then looked away. The stoic alien appeared expressionless, but Jack saw a touch of self-loathing in his dark eyes.

_**How much of that did you have to stomach before you met us, Teal'c? Will you ever tell us?**_

"Teal'c," Jake Carter inserted quickly. "So the fact that George's dog tags came through the gate, means that it's highly probable that George or my daughter send them through. If the two of them had been captured…"

Carter paused, and then he sat down, looking as though he was close to physically collapsing. He waved away the anxious folk who were hovering over him with a very gruff, "I'm ok, had a touch of the flu a few days ago, and I'm not completely over it. But Teal'c, they wouldn't be brought there to that planet, correct? If Apophis wanted them made an example of, he wouldn't send them to a dead world, would he?"

"It is unlikely, General Carter," Teal'c answered. "Apophis would prefer to have their deaths be witnessed, as a warning to others that would rebel."

"They tried contacting us via their radios, that must have been the noise," Carter snapped. "When we didn't answer, they realized that the Gate was having problems. So they threw the dog tags into the wormhole…hoping they'd get through."

"It might not be them, Jake," Ryan warned. "Don't get your hopes up. If it is them, they don't have much in the way of supplies, do they?"

"No, it was only supposed to be a quick jaunt off world so General Hammond could get his feet wet," O'Neill explained for the ninety-seventh time. "What type of conditions will they have to deal with Teal'c?"

"I am uncertain," Teal'c answered.

"OK. Let's find out how soon the Gate will be operational," Ryan ordered. "We're getting our people home."

* * *

Captain Samantha Carter, currently trapped off world on another planet with her CO, unaware that her father was storming through the hallways of the SGC and intimidating almost all who dealt with him due to his intense desire to get her home, threw more firewood into the fireplace. The MRE, some sort of tex-mex dish, (Naturally, she thought with some asperity) was cooking and she had reused the tea bag from earlier so Hammond would have something warm to drink when he returned from attempting the gate. He had radioed that he was on his way back, and she looked at her watch for the third time in thirty seconds. 

Fifteen minutes ago he had said that he was returning. He **_should_** be back by now.

There were no answers to her repeated attempts at radio contact. Shit! She was pacing, back and forth, a nervous gesture she had picked up from her mother. On those times when her father had been late coming home from a mission, her mother had often paced with worry…

"God damn it," Samantha cursed. "My father would have done this."

A good junior officer always followed their senior officer's commands, and then Samantha Carter decided it was time to disobey General Hammond. She put her sunglasses, pulled her T-shirt up until it covered her nose and mouth, and then grabbed her P-90. It was long past time to rescue Hammond, whether he liked it or not.

To her surprise, she found him roughly 300 yards from the guard house, upright, staggering like a drunk on a week's binge, and covered head to foot in snow. He didn't seem to notice her, but instead he stumbled and fell face forward into the snow again. By the time she had reached him, he was still laying face downward in the snow.

**_Shit! He's hypothermic! And I can't even think of dragging him! He's too damn solid for that!_**

"Sir!" She called. "General Hammond! Can you stand up?"

He rolled over in the snow, and stared up at her. His normally ruddy face was pale and blue tinged, and to her complete surprise, he laughed uproariously when he realized who she was.

Err… who she looked like as she rapidly realized that General Hammond was disorientated and hallucinating.

"Viv?" He slurred. "Viv? What the fuck? You dead, Viv."

Hammond looked away from her, and stared over her shoulder. He nodded his head as though he was having a conversation with someone. A Dead Someone.

"Maggie?" The General slurred. "Aint't she dead?"

"Sir," Samantha yelled. "Come on, I need you to get on your feet, Sir. Come on, Sir."

To her complete unsurprise, Hammond completely ignored her. No, instead, he somehow got to his feet, and began stumbling off in the wrong direction. She briefly wondered if all of her father's friends were as bullheaded as Hammond was or if it was because Hammond was from Texas and because Texans had their own way of doing things…regardless!

"General HAMMOND!" Samantha yelled as she followed him into the deep snow and wallowed gracelessly in the snow. "**_GEORGE_**!"

The use of his first name seemed to draw his attention and he turned to face her.

"Viv?" He asked. "Where's Maggie?"

"Yes, George… come with me… Maggie's waiting for you in the house."

By hook or by crook, she managed to pull the General back into the guard house and she forced him to sit down by the warm fireplace. She handed him a warm bowl of tea, knowing that shocking his system with hot tea would make matters even worse. From all appearances combined with his mental confusion, the General was borderline hypothermic.

"Drink this," she ordered.

His hand coordination was shot, plus he was shivering so hard that Hammond succeeded in spilling more on him than he got into him until she took over for him.

"Here, you sip, I'll hold," she ordered.

She managed to get two bowls into him, and then forced him to eat one of the candy bars, knowing that right now he needed warm fluids and simple sugars. That done, she forced him to drink more warm tea, and he managed to drink most of it through his chattering teeth.

"I need … out of these wet clothes. Hand me my shirt and my hat please," he muttered. His voice wasn't quite as slurred, as before. Hammond tried to unbutton his shirt, but his hands were still clumsy and unable to handle the small buttons. Frustrated, he popped a button off before Samantha helped him undo the rest of his jacket. She assisted him with removing his jacket and putting on his t-shirt.

He sighed in contentment, "Shirt's warm. I threw my dog tags through the wormhole. If they landed at the SGC, they'll know that at least one of us was alive. If it went to Apophis' summer cottage, shouldn't mean shit to him."

Hammond was shivering still and he looked at his feet.

"Help me… my boots?"

Samantha agreed to help him with his boots, and he watched her intently while she got his feet out of his wet boots. His socks were soaked, and so she removed them. His feet were blue with cold, but they weren't frostbitten.

"Did I call you Viv?" Hammond questioned softly.

"Yes, you did," she admitted.

"Fuck," he cursed before he had a fit of coughing. "Captain, are you still wearing your wet pants?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam admitted.

"One idiot with hypothermia is enough for this three hour tour, Captain," Hammond barked before he started coughing again. "I need to get my pants off also, so… you turn around. I'll do the same… If I fall over, I'll let you know…though you'll probably guess that I took a header. You'll know as you'll hear a loud boom and the earth will shake… but I think I better handle this part myself."

* * *

Took a few minutes but he managed to change out of his wet pants and into his dry briefs. Thank God, he didn't need to have Jake's daughter help him change as he'd never be able to look Jake in the face again. That done, he staggered to the bed, and crawled…ok collapsed into it. He was so damn cold, the bed was warm, and he was delighted to close his eyes and just fall asleep. 

Waves of weariness were crashing over him, while a small voice was saying that he should stay awake, but he ignored it, as he was drifting away.

"Sir?" A female voice interrupted him.

"Forge my signature," he informed that damn secretary that probably forged his signature on half the PR-291 forms that came through the base.

"Sir?" the voice questioned again. "You need to sit up. You really need to eat more than you did."

The voice kept haranguing and harassing him, so finally he opened his eyes, to see Viv… noooo…**_ Samantha Carter _**sitting next to the bed. The Captain was wrapped in a blanket and she had a cup of tea and the mre sitting on the table next to her as she had pulled the table toward him.

Ah! He was off world, in a frozen Shangri-La, not on an Air Base in Texas.

"Captain, you are painfully persistent," Hammond grumbled.

"You'll freeze if you don't eat. How are you doing, Sir?" Captain Carter questioned.

"If things got any better, I'd need to hire some one to help me enjoy it," he drawled.

That quip caused Carter to laugh.

"Do you need help eating?" Samantha questioned.

"I can do it," he announced, and he uncovered himself long enough to take the MRE from her hands.

Carefully, he split the entrée in half, hoping that the Captain wouldn't see how his hands shook and he grimaced when he nearly spilled it.

"Bean and rice burrito," he informed her. "It's hard to believe that this is supposed to taste like that. Obviously they've never had good Tex-Mex. Fortunately, there's a good place by Cheyenne."

"Here, let me help you," she insisted. "Get under the blanket, you're still hypothermic."

"Yes, Ma'am," he retorted.

* * *

Hammond let her feed him, and though he was tired, he refused to just close his eyes. He was slowing thawing out, he wasn't shivering as bad as he was, but he wanted to make damn sure that she ate half the meal. Plus, he knew damn well that if he closed his eyes, he'd be asleep, which was a bad sign. 

"Rest is yours," he informed her after his 4th bite or so. "I'll have some tea now, and then when you're done eating and drinking, throw more wood on the fire. Then you're to get into the bed, Captain."

"Sir?" She questioned.

"It's an order, Captain," he informed her tersely.

Hammond was lying in the bed, shivering. And she was wearing her bdu jacket, her t-shirt, and her underwear. Oh, and a blanket was wrapped around her middle, hiding her bare legs. Her pants were neatly hung up near the fireplace, as they needed to dry. The General looked at her, and he shook his head.

"I'm not in any condition to take advantage of you. Your virtue will remain intact," he promised. "Plus your father would kick my ass from wherever the hell we currently are, all the way back to Houston."

"It's not that, Sir," she lied.

"Good, as I'd be furious if I had the faintest suspicion that Jake Carter's daughter would prefer to develop hypothermia because a needless, deep-seated fear that I was a lecherous two star who'd take advantage of a junior officer when I'm too goddamn cold to even think of it," he growled with justifiable asperity.

"No, Sir! Never!" Samantha protested, wondering when the hell her life had spun out of control. "I'd NEVER think that!"

"Don't worry," the General rumbled in his deep voice. "I didn't even think it either."

So after throwing a few more pieces of wood onto the fire, Samantha Carter crawled into bed with her superior officer. To her surprise, the General was still shivering, even though he had been under several blankets. Deliberately, she snuggled close to him, feeling her bare legs brush against his. Then, she put a bag over her head, and did it for England… ok… for the United States Air Force, and she hugged her superior officer, wishing that there was a better way of warming him than by the sharing of body heat under assorted blankets.

His body was shivering so hard that it took him a few tries to wrap his arms around her.

"Sir?" She questioned.

"I think we can drop the rank," Hammond informed her. "When we're rescued, we can assure everyone that you called me General, and I called you Captain…. Here's the situation, Samantha. You need to keep me talking until I warm up, ok? May not wake up… if I fall asleep… Not warming up that… quick…"

"Ok, Sir… George…" Sam replied. "What do you want to talk about?"

The General… no…. George… was already dozing so she repeated her question louder.

"Is it true…you joined the Air Force because you got… a Matt Mason figurine for Christmas?" George questioned. "Your father must be so pissed at me…"

"You heard me mention that to Daniel?" Sam questioned softly.

Oh Fuck! How embarrassing!

He shivered again, and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

"You need to look at the picture again… when we get out of here," he mumbled. "The other guy… make him bald…add a few pounds… few decades….might look… familiar…"

"You were the **_one_**? You got me Matt for Christmas?" Samantha questioned.

"Yes. My wife…Maggie… she thought Sam Carter…. Was a boy…," George explained. "Then… when we showed up… you were wearing… that velvet dress…."

First he thought she would prefer to freeze before sharing the bed with him because she thought he'd try to make a move on her, then he mentioned the Matt Mason figurine and then the DRESS from HELL had to be brought in. She still had assorted traumatic memories of wearing that dress!

Her father had a picture of her unhappily wearing that dress. Her dad kept THAT PHOTO in his wallet through the years, ready for the chance to embarrass her in front of family, friends and perfect strangers.

Good God, if he was at the SGC, no doubt he'd be proudly showing it to everyone including Teal'c!

"Oh my god, that dress! George?" She questioned sharply as his eyes were closed and his breathing was growing heavy as though he was close to sleep. "George! You saw me in that dress?"

George nodded slowly and grumbled a response which she couldn't hear. Then she rubbed his chest HARD with her knuckles. Thanks to sitting through countless first aid classes, she knew the Sub-sternum chest rub should and could wake the nearly dead. For her trouble, George roused slightly.

"Cute dress. Should wear it now…. Probably warmer than the… bdus…"

She continued questioning him for a bit, and then she heard the oddest sound. It was thunder?

"What's that?" She questioned.

"Thunder snow," George informed her. "It's starting to snow again. There will be probably a lot more snow before it ends. Looks like we're snowed in."

That comment caused him to bark a laugh and she asked him why.

He explained, "Samantha, the last time I was snowed in with a Carter, the stork dropped off my daughter. I didn't think your father would ever talk to me again after Maggie had our daughter on your parent's brand new mattress. I bought them a new one, naturally, but… damn… that was one scary Christmas."

The two of them talked for almost an hour, until Hammond was warmed up enough to stop shivering. To her amazement, Samantha realized that Hammond's gruff-by the book exterior hid a kind and considerate heart. Never, ever would she think that Hammond would talk to her about his grandkids and how he took them sledding during the winter months.

"They'd love all this damn snow. They'd be running around trying to convince me that I want to kill myself by sledding down the biggest hill they could find."

"Sir, I'm sorry." she apologized when she realized that George had missed his daily phone call with his grandkids. "You didn't get home to call them."

"Hopefully Walter called my daughter and made up something that sounds suitably important enough to cause me to miss our appointment but not serious enough so that she worries," George explained. "It'll be a fine line to walk, as Jocelyn is too much like her mother."

"It's a shame though," George admitted slowly. "I was hoping that since I missed so much of their mothers' growing up that I could be more involved with Kayla and Tessa's lives. I was so close to retiring before that damn ghoul decided to ruin my plans."

* * *

"Which end?" Jack questioned McKay, the alleged brain. 

"Beg your pardon?" McKay snapped. "Which end what?"

"Where did Hammond's dogtags unexpectedly crumble like they were made out of tin?" O'Neill snapped. "Is the problem on their end or ours?"

"We're running diagnostics, Colonel," Siler called from across the room.

"Fuck the diagnostics, Siler. Can we redial that gate address?" Jacob Carter growled.

"No. We managed to blow some of the circuits that we just replaced, Sir. We need to replace them again."

"Damn it," O'Neill and Carter swore at the same time. The two men looked at each appraisingly, decided that the other one reminded them far too much of themselves and so they immediately looked elsewhere.

"How long?" Ryan snapped.

Siler shook his head, "It's not just that, Sir. We'd almost replaced all the super conductive interface elements, Sir. The old ones all melted. It's going to take some time to replace them for the second time and load test them."

O'Neill managed to keep his impatience growl to himself but he knew his voice was sharper than it should be when he snapped, "Sgt. Just tell me the **_minute_** we can communicate with them with the radio."

"That'll be 24 hours, Sir, minimum," Siler insisted. "Possibly more as we need to find out if the damaged conduits being used when they dialed in caused additional stress on other parts of the Gate."

Ryan shook his head, "Sergeant, Captain Carter and General Hammond may not have that long. I'll give you half that. You'll also be saving Colonel O'Neill's six."

For a wonder, Siler dug his heels in, and shook his head, flatly telling General Mike Ryan to go scratch.

"No Sir, it doesn't work that way. 24 hours is the best I can do. You want me to take the chance of having General Hammond and Captain Carter returning in the same shape as that dog tag? Then make me rush."

Jake Carter stepped in, "Then you'd better get back to it, Sergeant. Mike, George trusts him, so listen to him."

"Very well, Sgt," Mike Ryan said with ill disguised impatience. "The clock is ticking. Colonel O'Neill, you and General Carter need to speak with General Hammond's family.

* * *

Hammond was asleep, and for some reason, he knew that he shouldn't be. But damn it, he was still chilly and Mags was lying near him, and somehow they had gotten entwined like pair of human pretzels under the shared blankets. She was partially lying on top of him and her leg was entangled with his. Plus her warmth was resting delightfully against his middle and he continued to doze, enjoying the burgeoning feeling of warm desire. Mags was moving slightly, just enough so that he was completely and totally aware of her, and how she was rubbing her body against his just so… 

This was the very best way to wake up. He could even ignore the howling winds outside, as nothing mattered because Maggie was in his arms…

_**George? It's me, Maggie. That's not me, darling. Wake up!**_

He ignored her, and Maggie decided to teach him a lesson. She grabbed him by the short hairs, threw him into a snow bank where he was promptly eaten alive by a rabid seven foot tall aardvark who declared in a heavy British accent that he was completely inedible as he was grisly and tough to swallow. That weird dream caused him to wake up, and he blearily looked at the woman who was sharing his bed with him. His desire fled for parts unknown when he realized that the woman wasn't Maggie.

No.

Blonde?

_**VIV? VIV! What is VIV doing in MY BED!  
**_

**_It's Samantha Carter_**, Maggie informed him. Her voice was loud and clear in his head. **_You're still dozing, dear. Not completely asleep, not completely awake. I figured that I'd better wake you before you two did something that you'd both later regret._**

_Mags. I'm old enough to be her father!_

**_Laughter. The Old Dog should be proud that he's still got some bite left! How are you doing dear?_**

_Piss on the fire, and call the dogs! I wanna go home! It's long past time to be gone from here!  
_

**_Seriously, George. Situation's pretty dire here. If you had reached the SGC, and if they could get back to you, they would have by now. If they could dial the gate, even just to contact you via the radio, they would have. You two have slept close to twelve hours. You're on your second day here, in fact, you're almost on your third day. _**

_Yes._

Hammond thought about the supplies they had started with, what they had used and the little that remained. Among two people, it wasn't much, but for one person… might be enough until she was rescued.

_**You've got something on your mind, George. You could always talk to me, and you want to talk. So that's another reason why I'm here.**_

_Strong chance we both won't make it out of here. Not enough provisions. Not enough wood, and we're in trouble, especially since they haven't come charging through the Gate to rescue us. Maybe one of us might make it if the other one decides… to fall on their sword, Mags. When she told me that I had given her that piece of paper…_

**_She never said when you gave it to her. Just that you had._**

_She never said if I was still alive._

_**No. She'd didn't.**_

_Very well. When I wake up, I'll put my plan into motion. All our meager resources will go toward keeping her alive. To hell with me. I've lived a good life, and I've missed you something fierce these last few years._

**_George… You're not giving up are you? I'm so surprised!  
_**

_Darling, it's colder than a witch's tit out there. I gotta be realistic. I'm not giving up, as I'm uglier than homemade sin, tougher than an old boot and near impossible to kill. But Carter, she might only be able to live a few days longer especially when we run out of food and wood. I've got all these nice layers so I can hibernate, but she's a might scrawny. _

_I prefer my ladies…with a little more meat, you know. There's something about a woman whose got ample curves so I can admire them ...  
_

_**Laughter. You're a dawg, George.**_

_Hopefully the SGC will be able to locate her before she dies from the cold. _

_It's the only decision, Mags. _

_I'm the General._

_I'm the one that got her stuck on this godforsaken planet. _

_I'll give her the note and instructions of when she'll need it. Then the circle's completed. My role in this little adventure is finished. At last, I can put this burden down. What will be, will be. If I make it out of here, great, if not, Samantha Carter has a date with a much younger me that she can't miss. _

**_George? Are you still angry about the path you've had to walk?_**

_No. I'm not… not anymore. _

_**George? At the end now, would you change anything? If you had the power to do so?**_

_She's Jake and Viv's daughter. They helped bring Jocelyn into the world, and that meant I've had my responsibilities and obligations to the Carters, and by that I mean, every member of the Carter family. Samantha Carter and I have had this tangled destiny for almost as long as she's been alive. It's time to cut the cord that binds the two of us together, Mags. _

_She'll have to face that adventure with… and possibly without me. Jackson's a good guy, O'Neill… if there's a way to get them home, he'll do it. And Teal'c? Teal'c will manage to keep an eye on the kids and keep them safe. I can't believe he's forty years older than I am!_

_But Maggie, Maggie, I would have loved to see the girls one more time before I got called home. Kayla's got your eyes and Tessa's got your smile, darling. _

_**George… I think you've healed. Finally. **_

_I needed to get to know them. I might not get the chance to really know them, not now, but… they seem to be decent folk. That's enough for me. _

'_Sides it's not that bad a way to die. Freezing to death. You just close your eyes, and fall asleep. You even believe that you're warm. You'll be there, won't you? Please?_

_**Always, George. I will always be there, as I have always been there.

* * *

**_

"That went well," O'Neill said dryly to General Carter after the two men left the Hammond household.

The General grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. The older man's face was drawn and haggard, and he looked exhausted.

"No family takes it well when a bunch of uniforms show up to tell you that they don't have any fucking information on your loved one," the General needlessly explained. "Plus the base's cover story really needs work. Analysis of deep-space radar telemetry?"

You think? O'Neill nearly retorted. What was the hint that the family wasn't taking it well? When Hammond's youngest daughter met us at the door before you could even knock on the door? That the oldest daughter asked why the hell her dad, a **_General_**, was out in the field overseeing a repair job?

No, the worst part had been when George's grandkids, two cute little girls by the name of Kayla and Tessa, had grabbed his hands, had looked imploring at him with big blue eyes and tearfully begged him to go find 'Papaw George who was losted'?

"You know the family well?" O'Neill said instead, wishing his headache would just find some other place to hang out for a bit.

"Jocelyn's my goddaughter," Carter explained. "I've known George for a hell of a long time. Like I told Jocelyn and Millie, my daughter was on the mission also, and I have **_no_** doubts in my mind that the two of them are alive, and covering each other's sixes."

* * *

George woke up and carefully got out of the bed, managing to keep Samantha Carter asleep. He grabbed his pants, realized that they were dry, and so he put them on, quite delighted at being able to retain some dignity. Nothing caused a general to lose his dignity faster than for a junior office to see him in his briefs. 

Well, having the junior officer see him without his briefs was the fastest way, actually.

The fire was low and in fact, was almost out, so he threw more wood and kindling onto it before guesstimating the amount that was left. They were burning wood faster than he thought they would, and the guard house was still on the chilly side.

Not enough wood for another day.

If he broke the two chairs, and the table. That would be enough for a few more hours. Maybe the bed frame next… but that would mean the mattress would be on the cold floor.

He put one of the bowls close to the fire, so to heat the water for tea. That done, he looked out the window. Couldn't see a damn thing, as the wind was blowing something fierce and whipping up the snow.

The weather report was obviously predicting more snow until doomsday, so he took out his journal, ripped more pages out of it, and he began writing by flashlight. The first two letters he had to write were to his daughters. He wanted to make sure that they knew that at the end, he hadn't been afraid, that it had been a good life, made better by being their dad.

_**It's been a good life, Jocelyn…**_

He wrote for a bit, then reread the letters. There was so much to say, so much he needed them to know, and such little time in which to write. Hammond's hands were growing stiffer in the cold air, and so he quickly put his letters to them into an envelope. When, and not, IF, the SGC, found them, Jocelyn and Millie would get his notes.

That done, it was time to write the hardest letter of all.

_**Captain Carter,**_

**_This was the only ethical decision, and I did it knowing full well what the consequences might be. But I can assure you that one day you'll understand… why I've done what I've done… and how I knew you'd make it out alive._**

**_My final orders to you are as follows:_**

_**Make sure Jocelyn gets my wedding ring and my journal. **_

**_When they bury me, I want you to tell my son-in-laws to make damn sure that there's a nice spray of yellow roses for my wife's grave, because there's a yellow rose in Texas that I am going to see…_**

He wrote another paragraph or so, and then he placed the yellow sheet of paper with a request to a younger Hammond to help four strangers plus two dates and two times into an envelope, which he then sealed into another envelope along with his note.

**_If I could, George, I'd tell you that it was worth it. At the end, I realized they were worth the trouble and the pain that you're going to live through. But you'll know that in time. _**

That done, he began working on the hypothermia wrap. He'd make sure Samantha Carter would eat and drink, take care of "business" and then he'd wrap her up in all the blankets, and the space blanket. Some of the rocks in the fireplace were loose, so he could heat them up, then put them into socks and make a rough hot pack of sorts, put them in with her, wrap her up real good, duct tape the entire wrap shut so to keep that precious heat from being lost.

Time to wake Samantha Carter in order to enjoy their last meal together.

* * *

Bill Lee ran the audio transmission through a multiplexer, removed the static, increased the frequency, adjusted the modulation and he grimaced. 

"Here goes nothing," he said cheerfully to Daniel Jackson, who for some reason gave him a rather disgusted look.

He didn't know what Jackson's problem was, after all, Jackson could be helping McKay, who was by all accounts was rather snippy. Siler had been restrained from punching McKay only through the quick actions of Walt Davis, who had grabbed Siler and had pulled him out in the hallway for a serious talking to. Davis probably promised Siler that he could punch McKay AFTER the General was once again back at the base.

Bill knew himself to be the most levelheaded and easiest of personalities, so he decided he'd magnanimously chalk Daniel Jackson's crankiness up to stress. After all, the SGC had been on high alert for the last forty eight hours.

Rumors also had O'Neill in a very foul mood after meeting the General's family. Lee hadn't gotten any concrete gossip on that except for the fact that the General's oldest daughter had a bit of a mouth on her.

He hit play and he was rewarded with a roar like a moose in heat. Bill was also hit solidly in the back by a rather excited Daniel Jackson.

"Ow!" Bill exclaimed. "Why are you hitting me?"

"Listen again. Replay that," Daniel Jackson instructed, "Just decrease the modulation and increase the speed just a hair."

No, this time it didn't sound like a moose in heat, no, instead it sounded like Mickey Mouse on helium. But instead of incomprehensible noise, there were words… **_comprehensible_** words.

"**_This is Hammond. Do you copy?"_** Pause. **_"Captain Carter, can you hear me?" _**

"**_Yes, Sir."_** Higher pitched voice, probably female.

Bill tried to shush Daniel Jackson who was paging Jack O'Neill to the lab.

"_**Any idea what I'm hearing? The wormhole doesn't look normal. Its looks more like… a whirlpool rather than the …. .regular pool of blue." **_

"_**I'd suggest that you keep talking, Sir. Keep the wormhole open for a few more minutes, because if we're reached the SGC, they'll need to modulate the frequency adapter." **_

"Jack! It **_was_** Hammond who threw his dog tags through the Gate. They're **_alive_**, Jack. They're alive!" Daniel Jackson exclaimed excitedly.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

This started out slightly AU, but went completely off the Cannon tracks a while ago. The delay in this chapter is because two characters in this chapter did something that I didn't want them to do. I argued, I pleaded and I tried to bribe them into behaving, but the muses wouldn't have it any other way. The the characters refused to play until I gave them what they wanted.

We start this chapter where we left George and Samantha in the previous chapter. The snow is falling; our couple is having a little rendezvous in front of a roaring fireplace in a snug little chateau. They're having hot drinks and a romantic meal… consisting of a power bar and hot, weak tea by the flickering light of a flashlight.

It's a darn shame that they're not in Aspen, but instead the two of them are stuck on another planet with no way home.

Meanwhile the SGC has managed to ascertain that a recent communication to their facility was in fact the two missing travelers.

Note: The reference for the Bill Lee comment on the Heisenberg Compensator is w-i-k-i-p-e-d-i-a. I can't list the URL as it screws up the story formatting. Sorry!

Poem quoted by one of the characters is a slightly modified version of "Dead Woman" by Pablo Neruda.

* * *

WIP 

It was another exciting meal of a power bar. Hammond had given an entire one to her to attempt to choke down, and then he had offered her one of her chocolate bars broken in half. Wanting the chocolate as she was starving but knowing that they needed to conserve their food, she weakly protested.

"Sir shouldn't we…" Samantha began questioning.

"Samantha, I can't hear you," he snapped.

Shit. He wanted her to call him **_GEORGE_**.

"Shouldn't we be conserving the food, George?" Samantha asked.

"We're running out of fuel, Samantha, and the snow's still falling. We need to break the chairs and the table down. Might be good to break the bedframe down also. We'll need the energy. Put the mattress in front of the fire, and hope for the best," George said in his usual straightforward manner.

* * *

Sgt. Siler rolled his eyes, even while Rodney McKay was taking credit for all his hard work. Such was the life of a career NCO in the USAF. Day in, day out, he went about his business, methodically putting together the high falootin', plainly ignoring the reality of physics, unworkable plans of his higher ups and somehow making them work. 

No one ever said, "Great job, Sparky!" No, when this was over, everyone would probably nominate McKay for the Nobel Prize.

"This part!" McKay exclaimed while he dramatically pointed at a diagram of the Stargate that was on the table.

Two Generals, one Colonel, one linguist, a space alien by the name of Teal'c all peered at the small part. Bill Lee tried to see but he was blocked by several shoulders. He grimaced in frustration.

"Your finger's covering it," snapped General Ryan, who on that auspicious day when he had been promoted to Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force, had never thought that he'd be involved with a rescue mission for a General stuck off world.

"Oh, you're right," McKay admitted with an embarassed grimance, as he moved his index finger off the part.

"It got fried during the power surge," Siler inserted, as he felt it was long past time to get to the point of this entire meeting. "We're rebuilding the part now."

"What does the part do?" Ryan asked.

"It's responsible for the orderly dematerialization and rematerialization at a molecular level," McKay explained to the crowd.

"Like the Heisenberg compensator?" Bill Lee questioned. "That would explain why General's Hammond's dog tag was bent when it came through the gate."

"Heisenberg compensator?" Jacob Carter spat, who annoyance was quite understandable considering he was rapidly losing faith in both Bill Lee and Rodney McKay. "You two actually possess **_doctorates_**? Or are you just card carrying members of the Geeks' Club for Trekkies?"

"No, General. We just nicknamed the part that as the part seems to be a literal Hesinberb compensator," Siler inserted quickly.

"Thank God, George has someone with a clue working for him," Jake Carter snapped.

Bill Lee nodded his head and explained, "The idea is that such compensators could use the principle of quantum entanglement to entangle particles in a small block of experimental matter with those in the subject. A set of measurements would then allow you to calculate with certainty both the position and vector velocity of the particles in the subject. However, that set of measurements would be valid only for a Planck time, and due to quantum mechanics, you can only calculate out so far with certainty where the particle will be. This contributes to pattern degradation, as the randomness inserted into the system by quantum mechanics will quickly overcome the computer's ability to maintain a reasonable approximation of the internal physics of the matter stream."

Bill Lee realized quickly that he had lost his audience.

"In **_Star Trek, The Motion Picture_**, Commander Sonak and Admiral Lori Ciana when they beamed over the Enterprise, they…" Bill explained slowly, before pausing when he realized that perhaps he best not finish his example in front of a concerned father and two star General.

"Turned into a big puddle of ooze," Jack interrupted helpfully.

Jake Carter sat down in a chair, so quickly it was almost a physical collapse. He rubbed his aching head with one hand, and his shoulders were slumped as though weighed down by an impossible weight.

"So right now, if they gate in," Carter said in a very quiet voice, though his voice echoed in all too-quiet room. "They'll end up like George's dog tags. But they won't gate in unless they get an All Clear from us, hopefully. We need to contact them somehow and advise them that we know that they'll alive and what's going on here. When can we at least get a radio transmission through to them?"

"A few more hours," Siler inserted before Rodney was able to open his mouth.

"Funny, are you in charge here?" Rodney quipped. "Thought I was."

Mike Ryan cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him. The General was nonchalantly scratching one of his stars on his dress blues.

"Actually, I'm in charge here," he reminded McKay. "Do I need to keep reminding you?"

* * *

The two chairs broke easily, as did the table, but the damn bed frame, that was going to be a problem, Samantha quickly realized. The slats were old, and Hammond was able to crack 'em by applying enough pressure to them so they'd bend and break. The wooden cabinet doors were hard to get off their hinges but before long, Samantha had them in the all too small pile of firewood. 

She returned to the main room to find Hammond shaking his head. The bed was in pieces around him, and he had just finished dragging one of the larger pieces closer to the fireplace.

"It was almost a damn shame to break this bed apart, as whoever made it was rather talented," George explained. "They mortised the beam and made a joint…"

He trailed off and grimaced.

"You don't know what I'm talking about do you? Trust me, I've help build a barn or two when I was younger, and the mortise and tenon work on this was pretty secure."

"You've built a barn?" Samantha questioned.

"Yes," Hammond said simply, as though it was an every day occurrence.

'**_I built a barn or two when I was younger.' I wonder what else you've done in your life. You know my father and I keep realizing that I really don't know a damn thing about you._**

"I don't think that will fit in the fireplace," Samantha informed George.

"I know, that's why it's the wood of last resort," George replied. He nodded his head, then he stuffed his chilly hands into his pockets in a feeble attempt to warm them. "I know you're getting out of here, Samantha. It looks dark right now, but you will get out of here."

Samantha laughed, and shook her head, "That blond haired, blue eyed gypsy of yours predict it?"

For a moment, she wasn't sure that he was actually going to answer her, as it appeared her off-the-cuff comment had affected him deeply. Then he nodded his head.

"You'll get out of here, Samantha. I know that you will," George promised. "Now, if for any reason, I don't make it out of here…"

"Sir!" Samantha protested for the General seemed… fey, as though that much talked about gypsy had in fact warned him that he was doomed to die on this mission.

"George," he reminded her. "This is an order, Samantha. You are not to interrupt me. If for any reason, I don't make it off this planet, make sure my oldest daughter gets my journal. I want her to have my wedding ring, and you… are to assure her… that my death was a good death. No pain, no regrets and that I died happy, because I'm meeting Maggie again…"

He turned away from her and started playing with the fire. It was obvious that George needed a moment or two to compose his emotions. Samantha let him have a few minutes to calm down, and for some reason, her instincts were nudging her. Maggie Hammond was the key to understanding George but she needed to pry gently.

"Maggie was your wife?" Samantha questioned, though she knew the answer.

"She wasn't just my wife…"

George's voice was raw with grief and pain, and Samantha was amazed once again, by how much grief the stoic Hammond still felt.

"She was my heart, my soul, my moral compass, and she was by far, my better half."

"How did she die?" Samantha asked, trying to keep George talking.

"Breast Cancer. It was a small little lump, the surgeons thought they got every bit of it out when they did the mastectomy," the older man explained softly. It was obvious to Samantha that George was a million light years away as he was reliving the diagnosis. "We had little more than nine months together after they confirmed the diagnosis. She fought… **_hard_**…"

The General sighed, and his voice was shaky.

"Maggie fought the good fight… she battled so damn hard…We thought she'd beat it. But those damn little cancer cells, they multiplied like wildfire. There were squadrons of them and that damn cancer, it fucking mets everywhere. Her liver, her lungs… her spine…"

George looked at her; his icy blue eyes were full of unshed tears.

"It was a blessing… for her when she passed. That sounds so… cold… doesn't it? Maybe cold isn't the right word, not when we're trapped on this frozen, snowy Shangri La? Maybe aloof or distant… or **_uncaring_**… is the better word, Samantha."

The General stretched for a moment, loudly popping his back.

"It's almost time for this tired old man to get some sleep."

* * *

"Let's dial the gate address," Ryan ordered. "Have a medical team on standby, two teams ready to go if they need to be extracted. But the MALP goes through first, and that's only if we can get a confirmed radio contact with them." 

O'Neill was dressed, ready to go extricate his people. Daniel Jackson had slipped into BDUs and had been quickly ordered to remain behind by Ryan unless otherwise commanded otherwise. And whatever Jacob Carter and Teal'c had conversed about, the Major General had nodded his head in approval when Ryan questioned Carter's father about Teal'c being one of the first to be suited up and ready to assist in getting Hammond and Carter the hell out of where ever they had been.

That is, if they were allowed to leave the Gateroom. The geeks had majiked up a doo-hickie and even though they couldn't promise that they'd be able to do more than talk to their personnel, everyone had immediately suited up and headed toward the Gateroom.

He could see Danny up in the control room, his mouth moving as he counted the chevrons even as Sgt. Davis encoded them. Everywhere he looked, the SGC Personnel were counting the chevrons as they lit up. The Gate was shaking, no more than its norm, and Jack had to bite back a laugh. Maybe Hammond would get the funding to get the super duper shock absorbers he had requested afterall. He had put the request in after one too many cups of tea had ended on the floor after making their way across the table due to the vibrations caused by the Gate.

Yeah, that's it. Think positive. Hammond would be coming back and soon, no doubt ready to fucking kill him because it was Jack O'Neill's fault that he was trapped off world.

Was Davis pausing? No, even Davis was staring intently at the Gate.

**_Seven_**.

Locked.

The Wormhole opened and you could feel the spirits of everyone in the Gateroom pick up. You never left anyone behind, and the entire SGC from the lowest of the low up to Jack O'Neill had blamed themselves for the fact that they had two personnel stuck off world.

But now, it was time to get them home.

"George, it's Mike. Come in please," Ryan announced slowly and clearly into the microphone.

He paused for a moment, and then continued.

"George. Please respond."

He stopped keying the mike and glanced at Jacob Carter. With a quick nod, he allowed Samantha's father to take over.

"Sam. Come in please," Jake's voice was composed though Mike personally thought Carter looked like he had been thrown under the bus and dragged for miles.

Jake took his hand off the mike and waited for the response.

You could almost hear a pin drop while everyone waited for a response.

"DAD?" came the response in a female voice.

"JACOB?" A male voice. "What the **_hell_** are you doing on my base?"

* * *

Hammond was feeling dangerously elated. The SGC had managed to contact them through the radio, and the SGC was now sending a MALP through the Gate. Thank God, they were finally getting off this godforsaken planet. If they could get the MALP through the Gate and then back to the SGC, they could go home! 

Savagely, he crushed his elation, knowing that elated troops meant stupid stunts, which meant unacceptable risks, which meant dead troops. He made Samantha assist him as he put more wood on the fire, placed a pan of snow next to the fireplace to boil, and the two of them put the blankets closer to the fire. Samantha didn't question him on why he was being the galaxy's worst pessimist, but it was better to be safe and prepared, then sorry.

But he wasn't taking anything off to change into if he got wet as it was colder than a mother-in-law's cold heart out there.

Actually Maggie's mum, Milagros had possessed the warmest of hearts toward her son-in-law; it was just Dead Eyed Papa Juan with his gats that had taken a mighty long while to warm up to George the Gringo who had deflowered his daughter in her bed that one fateful summer night.

"Shall we?" He quipped.

Carter had her P90 ready for action, though Ryan had assured him that intel on the planet was that it was completely deserted, one didn't take unnecessary chances.

* * *

The Mobile Analytic Laboratory Probe aka the MALP rolled into the swirling pool of blue and dematerialized. Jacob watched the computer screen, shaking his head in disbelief. It was like Star Trek, he had to admit. Next thing you knew the little gray alien from Roswell would beam into the SGC. 

He rubbed his aching head and wished that he had been able to sleep. Jacob had crashed in one of the guest quarters at the SGC, hoping to catch a few zzzz's, but instead he had stared at the ceiling. Unsurprisingly, he had another episode of wicked chills that had his entire body shaking from the cold and then Jacob had broken out into a cold sweat. Least he wasn't running a slight temperature for the first time in few days, but Jacob had an appointment for a full medical checkup in a week, and he hoped that the doc would be able to give him a script for some antibiotics and clear it up as whatever the hell bug he had caught was just dragging on and on. It was kicking his ass something fierce and times like now, he needed to be completely healthy.

MALP REMATERIALIZING blazed across the monitor screen, and then… nothing.

"Shouldn't we be getting some telemetry back?" snapped Mike, his voice gruff with concern.

In the background, Jacob heard the squawk of the scientists and Sgt. Siler arguing even while Sgt. Davis explained that yes, the SGC should be receiving telemetry from the MALP.

"Can you confirm that the MALP is operational?" Ryan questioned.

"No response from the MALP, Sir," Davis intoned in a somber voice.

_**Damn it, damn it, damn it. What the hell was wrong now?**_

Jake grabbed the microphone and keyed it, "George. Sam. Can you hear me?"

"The wormhole is still active, they should be to contact us," McKay snapped.

"McKay, shut up," Jake snapped. "Siler, did I just hear you right? You thought that the bloody Heisenberg compensator wasn't tested enough?"

"Dr. Lee and I felt that it needed more testing, we were overruled," Siler said.

"Do I need to remind you that's my daughter's molecules that you are screwing around with McKay? Not to mention George, who I've known for almost thirty years," Jake growled in a dangerous voice. Then his voice got softer, Mark and Samantha if they had been there, would have been running for the hills because they knew that he was really fucking pissed and that the judge and jury had agreed that someone needed a major ass whooping.

Not so McKay.

"So… never crossed your super sized ego to think about the possibility that if George and Sam swap a few molecules, it would do them lasting harm? Shall I throw you through the wormhole to see how your molecules reassemble? I'll throw a rat in after you."

Fortunately, at that time Hammond decided to answer the radio.

"George here."

* * *

They were trekking through the snow; actually, she was following George closely as he plowed through the snow, breaking the trail for her. The glare of the sun was almost blinding even with her sunglasses on and the still air was so cold that it took her breath away. Hammond had ordered her to wear one of the blankets as a type of poncho, but he was blithely ignoring the cold. 

OK, maybe not so blithely, as she could see that he was shivering from the cold. But he had decided to keep two blankets back at the Hilton as he had nicknamed their shack, just in case they had to return.

He stopped unexpectedly, and she barreled into him, nearly knocking him off balance and face forward into a rather deep snow bank. As it was, the General had to struggle to keep his balance.

"George here," he snapped into his radio.

Waving his fingers and hand in an arcane manner at her, due to all her years in the military she was able to translate it easily.

_**Keep Quiet. Can't hear. **_

"We sent the MALP through," her father said. "We've had problems with the Gate, so don't utilize the Gate until we give the all clear."

His voice was emotionless, which meant something had gone seriously wrong.

"What's the problem?" George snapped.

"We've lost contact with it," was the soft response.

"Did you get any telemetry?"

"No."

"Understood. Initiating Radio silence," Hammond ordered as he turned his radio volume down low.

"Could be hostiles," Samantha suggested softly. "Or they're still having a problem with the Gate."

George shook his head in disgust, before putting his exasperation to words, "Too damn cold to be playing action hero."

He gestured to her. He'd take point, he'd go around, scope out the gate and she'd be responsible for keeping his General six safe. Nodding her understanding, she turned her radio on low also.

* * *

Damn, damn, damn. Naturally only one set of binoculars between the two of them, possible hostiles at the Gate and very little in the way of coverage. Right about now, he'd much rather have a p90 in his hot little hands rather than his Glock. 

He managed to wallow in the snow until he reached a spot where he could look down on the gate. Peering through his binoculars, he didn't like that he saw. The MALP was there, least something that once upon a time might have been a MALP.

No footprints, no blast marks, nothing that said hostiles – yet the MALP had been twisted and turned asunder.

"Heading down," George announced on the radio, as he half stumbled, half slid his way down to the Gate. "Don't see any hostiles."

"Neither do I," Carter quickly assured him.

* * *

Samantha was meeting Hammond at the gate when she heard him on the radio. His voice was calm, but she could hear how concerned Hammond was. 

"Jacob you didn't send the cavalry through after the MALP, did you?"

"No, we didn't," was the quick answer.

"They would be dead if you had," George informed him. "Is the problem on our end? Or your end?"

"It's here, we believe," Jake answered. "We're working on fixing the problem. Can you hold tight for a few more days?"

"Jake, we're running of fuel, food… and there's a good three feet of snow on the ground." Hammond then coughed, and spat, "Dinge sind grimmig. Ich denke nicht, dass wir für vierzig noch acht Stunden überleben können. Ich werde alles machen, das ich kann, Ihre Tochter zu sparen. Ich schulde Sie der viel und mehr."

Her father's voice was soft when he finally answered.

"Ich verstehe. Ich erhalte Ihnen Haupt mich verspreche."

The two of them chatted for a bit longer, and then Hammond sighed.

"Shut down the Gate. Contact us in six hours; we need to conserve our batteries for the radio."

She struggled down to the ramp, where she found the wreckage of once was a MALP. It was twisted and turned into a deformity made of metal and circuitry and Samantha's heart sank when she realized what the sight truly meant.

They weren't getting home.

Not now.

And possibly not ever.

"Have to go back to the Hilton," Hammond growled. "Hopefully they haven't given our room away."

"What did you tell my father just now?" Samantha questioned.

"A few things that I wanted my kids to know," explained the General.

Just then it started to snow, and Samantha knew that the General wasn't telling her everything..

* * *

Ryan ordered the wormhole shut down and then curtly instructed the dejected scientists to get back to the drawing board. Daniel slipped through the crowds and met O'Neill and Teal'c in the hallway. 

"What's going on?" Jack snapped. "Why'd they close the gate?"

"The MALP got turned into a pretzel, Jack." Daniel informed him.

"But they're both alive right now, correct?" Jack asked intently, then turned jocular to hide his distress that the two were still planet bound. "We get that doohickie fixed, and then the Ole Man will be back soon and probably the minute through the gate, he'll be threatening me with an imminent court martial. He's probably written up the paperwork as I'm SURE he had it in his back pocket when we went off world."

Jack turned and looked at Teal'c.

"I have that affect on people," Jack said insincerely. "I don't know why."

"Jack, he spoke to Sam's father in German. It was a little rusty, but from what I heard, Hammond isn't expecting to make it off the planet."

"Is he injured?" O'Neill questioned.

"No, Hammond stated that they'll be dead from hypothermia if they don't get off the planet soon. The shelter they are staying in is heated by a fireplace, and it stared snowing right after they arrived. There are already a couple feet of snow on the ground, and they're running low on fuel and food."

"Shit," O'Neill cursed. "We couldn't send supplies to them?"

"No, apparently Hammond said it was a lucky guess that he knew what showed up on their end was a MALP," Daniel explained.

"We'll need to get the cold weather gear together," O'Neill decided. "Need to get two stretchers ready so we can get them attached to the FREDs. I'm going to talk to Ryan."

* * *

O'Neill met Ryan and Carter, Senior half way to Hammond's office. Ryan had quickly commandeered it for his own use, and the two Generals began having a high speed conversation. 

"George knows I don't speak German, what the hell was he saying to you that I wasn't supposed to know?"

"He promised me that he'll do his damnest to get my daughter home safe and sound, because George thinks he owes me," Jake admitted softly.

"Excuse me; Jacob, do I look like I was commissioned yesterday? He couldn't say that in English? What was George afraid that he would get maudlin?"

"He had a few requests for his funeral and he wanted to make sure I gave his daughters a message," Jake admitted.

Ryan annoyed was an interesting sight, Jack had to admit. The Chief of Staff for the USAF slammed his hand down hard on George's desk.

"**_WHAT_**? Does that goddamn bald headed Texan actually think I'm just going to standby and let him and your daughter **_die_**?" Ryan roared. "I'm gonna make sure that I get him back so I can kick his ass from here to Houston. And you know what? I'm gonna do it twice. Then I'm really gonna get pissed!"

"No, Sir, he doesn't think you're going to let the two of them die," Jake stated slowly.

"Sounded like that to me," Ryan snapped.

Carter's father waved his hand and began explaining what George had said.

"They're nearly out of wood for the fire, and they've got one power bar left between the two of them. George thinks one of them might have a chance at surviving if we can get the Gate operational soon, so he's decided that person…" Carter's voice slowed, but remained strong, "That person… will be my daughter."

* * *

They barely made it back to the guardhouse before the wind picked up and the snow began falling heavily. As it was, Hammond had kept one hand firmly on her wrist to make sure she made it back to the little hut. 

"I'm beginning to hate snow," Samantha said through chattering teeth.

"And I'm beginning to wonder if the damn roof is able to support all this damn snow," Hammond growled. "I've never seen this much snow in… what… three days? Not even in Alaska…"

He stomped over to the fireplace, threw the blankets at her before putting more of their limited amount of wood on the fire. George then gruffly told her to get undressed and into the bed.

"Excuse me?" Samantha questioned.

Hammond turned to face her, and for a moment she didn't recognized the stubbly face of George Hammond. His facial hair was coming in white in some spots, but mainly it was a lovely shade of auburn.

But it was the look of peace on his face that surprised her the most.

Gone was the defensiveness, the guardedness that had always been the trademark of their interactions. No, now his eyes were calm and peaceful, and his mouth was slightly quirked as though amused.

"Get undressed, and get into bed. Your pants are wet, and I promise you that I won't look," Hammond insisted.

"Ok," Samantha decided. "Turn around."

He saluted her and turned back to the fire. She quickly got out of her boots, and took off her wet socks and her wet pants. Her jacket was a bit wet, so she took that off also. The air was a bit crisp, since she was just clothed in her t-shirt and underwear so she crawled into the bed quickly.

"Are you covered?" Hammond questioned.

"Yes," Samantha assured him.

"Good, now close your eyes," he ordered. "I don't want you sneaking a peek."

Samantha kept her eyes shut, not because she wanted to save George's dignity but because she was cold and exhausted. The constant chill in the Hilton combined with not enough food to keep a mouse alive had her personal batteries near exhaustion. The only reason Samantha had made it the shack was because George had kept motivating her.

No, she would have staggered her way back to the Hilton as she was too stubborn to lay down and die, but with Hammond yanking her arm nearly out of the socket (bad joke considering what had happened to him earlier in this little escapade) she had found the last dredge of her energy to keep up with Hammond's pace.

She was almost asleep when George got into the bed with her. Instinctively, she moved closer to him as he was warm. His bulk was radiating heat… ok… he was slightly warmer than the blankets, and so she snuggled close to him. If Sam was only the slightest bit more coherent, she would have been horrified to be snuggling next to her straight laced CO.

"Wake up," he commanded.

"You're warm," she murmured sleepily.

"Don't go to sleep," George ordered. "Captain, I'm giving you a direct order not to go to sleep."

"Yes, Sir," Samantha yawned.

"Come on, don't fall asleep," he repeated. "You fall asleep when you're wet and cold and you're just asking for trouble. Come on, stay awake."

Sam mumbled a few words and George continued talking.

"You know, your Dad thinks you'll make General younger than he did," Hammond offered.

"Really?" She mumbled.

"Yes, your father is exceedingly proud of you," her CO informed her. "He believes… no… he knows… that you'll make General before he did. Come on, wake up."

He put his hands on her face, and he forced her to look at him.

"Samantha… I'm sorry about this," George said in a very quiet voice. "It's completely my fault that you're stuck on this godforsaken planet. But I know you're going to get off this planet. You'll be alright. But remember, if anything happens to me, you need to make sure that my daughters get my wedding ring and my journal."

"You tell 'em, that I had a good life, and a quick, easy death," George continued. "You tell them that, ok?"

"Sir… George… you're not going to die…." Samantha protested.

"You haven't promised me that you're gonna tell that. They need to know that, Samantha. That it was quick, that I fell asleep and that I'm with their mother," the General intently insisted. "They watched their mother die inch by inch, and it was ugly and it was nasty. They'll need to know…"

She finally agreed to tell them that, wanting to reassure and soothe Hammond. She put her hand on his face, and gently caressed his stubble covered cheek.

"Listen to me, you're getting out of here alive," she promised. "What about that gypsy?"

"She just told me that you and I were going to meet again," George whispered.

They moved closer, staring into each other's eyes, and then Samantha realized that she and Hammond were kissing. She couldn't say who kissed the other first, but just that they had. It was a slow, hesitant kiss with Hammond obviously in control, but still letting her set the pace.

This was madness!

It was a one way trip, **_without_** a parachute no less, out of the service!

Yet, she was still kissing him…

Snowbound at the "Hilton" for how many days, snuggling together for warmth… dealing with the emotional highs and lows… she had been celibate for far too long and well… George… it was unmistakable he hadn't looked at another woman since his wife had died… and… God, she was trying to think…. It was perfectly understandable that a mutual sexual tension and desire had developed between them. She was female after all, with a slightly twisted fascination for the older, alpha male, no doubt due to her uneasy relationship with her father, and George… was positively, **_absolutely_** alpha male besides being her father's contemporary.

Yet…it was understandable, but it didn't it make it right.

Meanwhile, George was undressing her with the unhurried serenity of a lover intent on savoring the experience; yet undressing her so deliberately and sensually as to make damn sure that she understood that his number one priority was that she'd be completely satisfied.

Jonas, her ex-finance, had been a lousy lover, quick and fast, unable to figure out what would give her pleasure even if someone had given him a map, a flashlight and a clue. Oh, to be totally honest, flares and semaphores wouldn't have given Jonas a clue of where to touch her… even complete with a flashing neon sign saying "This is the Spot" but George… he was a **_veteran_**… supremely confident that he understood what a woman wanted, needed and craved, but he was also doing it… at his speed.

Rational thought soon fled for parts unknown, as George had her undressed and on the mattress before she realized what was happening. He was whispering in her ear in that slow, deep voice of his, telling her how beautiful she was, that she could tell him to stop, that he would… if she wanted…

And meanwhile his callused hands were stroking her, teasing her and doing it so damn leisurely and deliberately that she was going to explode… and her last coherent thought for a very long time was that George Hammond was an evil, **_evil_** man.

* * *

George knew that if Jake ever found out what was occurring between his daughter and him, he'd be a dead man. He also knew that this was a career destroying move if there ever was one, but now, at with the end in sight, he finally understood the mistake he had made after Maggie had died. He had shut his emotions down, refusing to allow anyone besides his family and few close friends behind his barriers. 

George had dealt with his pain over Maggie's death by ignoring it, refusing to completely acknowledge how lost and alone he had felt without his soul mate, hoping and praying that the gaping hole in his heart would heal in time. His heart had been as barren and cold as the world outside, and George had misplaced his anger into blaming the Time Traveling Team.

He had been a complete and utter ass, and if Maggie was still alive, she would have kicked his ass to Dallas, cursing him out the entire way.

After Maggie had died, countless women had thrown themselves at him, thinking that a grieving man with stars on his shoulders would be an easy catch. He had avoided them with an uneasy shudder, claiming he was still mourning his wife.

He was mourning, and would mourn her until the day he died, but George realized that he was more afraid to live, to actually allow himself to get close to someone, to actually allow himself to care for others for fear of losing them.

It had taken a trip off world for him to realize the bitter truth.

He was a lonely, lonely old man whose bones hurt in the morning when he got out of bed, and now when he knew what had to do to ensure that Samantha survived, George knew he'd pay the fee and gladly so, but how he wished he could see his grandkids one more time.

So he continued to kiss Samantha, slowly and deliberately, wanting and needing to feel close to someone.

Whenever he was away from home, Maggie would always greet him with the same risqué comment.

"_I did a lot of reading while you were gone, George…" _

Then during their private time together, after the kids were in the bed and the dog was put away for the night, Maggie would read whatever interesting magazine article had caught her fancy. The articles always had to deal with making love, and then George would do his best to add the latest tidbit to his bag of tricks, because it was an unwritten compromise between them. The first few nights home, George always let Maggie set the pace.

After being separated for six months or more, George was always quite willing to make love the minute he saw her, but for Maggie, she needed a chance to decompress… to get used to having him and all his annoying habits back in her life after being alone for so long. She wanted romance, she wanted him to talk to her, she wanted to emotionally connect with her warrior-husband who had been absent from her life for so long. They'd dance, kiss and cuddle and then Maggie would tell her which article made her heart race when she had imagined the two of them trying it together and… then he'd do his best.

Sometimes, there were spectacular results, a couple times, he had ended up maimed, battered and bruised, and then there were the stunning, astonishing failures where the two of them had laughed like loons at the idiots that written the articles, but first and foremost, he knew, when making love with a woman for the first time, you took your time and did things right…

* * *

Jacob Carter knew that he was stressing out the scientists. He knew it, he accepted it, and in fact, he **_delighted_** in the knowledge that the scientists were working HARDER because he was there, glaring at him. 

McKay, the annoying whiny snot, had taken a break, and was swilling coffee in the corner. Siler looked dead on his feet, and finally Carter ordered him to take a break. In the back of his mind, he remembered a short female doctor… Fraizer? No, **_Fraiser _**informing Ryan that Siler was supposed to have a follow up appointment with her… two… three... days ago?

"Sir," Siler protested.

"I want you to go the infirmary, and get yourself checked out Sergeant," Jake ordered in his most commanding voice. "You look like hell."

"Begging your pardon, Sir," Siler retorted. "I could say the same thing about you."

"Yes, you could," Jake admitted. "But unlike you, I can order the MPs to drag your ass down there, so you can go peacefully, or I can get those muscle bound behemoths to escort you. What do you say?"

"I'll be back, Sir," Siler protested with some heat even as Jake motioned for the two MPS to make sure Siler found his way to the Infirmary.

"Good man there," Carter announced to the scientists that were staring at him with wide eyed concern.

That done, Jacob decided to harass…err... sorry motivate…. Bill Lee, who was having a disagreement with the other geeks.

"We need to rebuild the part," Dr. Lee argued. "Jury rigging the part didn't work. Well it did work, except we would have human pretzels if we used it. We need to rebuild the part."

"How long?" Jake interrupted.

"Ten, twelve hours. We need some equipment from Area 51," Lee explained.

"Make it so!" snapped Jake. "We're running out of time of which General Hammond and Captain Carter do not have an overabundance. The clock is ticking, people!"

* * *

Several hours later: 

His left shoulder made a lousy pillow, Samantha had to admit. But his right shoulder was off limits, because it was still paining him plus it would unbelievably ill-mannered for her to rest her head on the tattoo of his late wife who was wrapped in nothing more than the Texas flag.

But she couldn't help admiring the tattoo, and she traced her finger over the Texas Flag. So much love, so much eye to detail, so much of who George really was, was in that artwork.

"Darling, you really need to get dressed," George rumbled.

He was stroking her hair with his hand, and she tried to make some sort of pillow talk. Before she could say anything, George put his finger over her mouth.

"We'll talk about the ramifications of what we just did when we're back on Earth, ok? For now, I just want to enjoy the afterglow," requested George slowly in that deep, rumbling voice of his.

George's finger was only removed from her lips, slowly and sensuously, after she nodded her agreement. Yes, they would have to pay the piper for what they had just done, but…Samantha tried not to think about it.

"You were… **_wonderful_**…" she gushed, blushing when she realized that she sounded like a grade schooler with a crush.

"Darling, you sound surprised. Don't you know? Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burn brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers, sweetheart, are surest, and old lovers are **_soundest_**," George quoted. "That means, when you take old soldier to bed, he'll do his damnest. Old men are like Model T Fords."

"I don't know if I want to hear the comparison, but go ahead, George," Samantha laughed.

"Get dressed, then I'll tell you how old men are Model T Fords," George insisted. "At the earliest, it will be another twelve hours before they can try the Gate again, but I don't trust Bill Lee. He'd probably inflate the time delay so he'd look good when he gets it done in half the time."

"Ok, I'll get dressed…" Samantha grumbled after she had stopped laughing at George's description of poor Bill Lee, who simply never ever got any respect.

Hammond, who had gotten dressed sometime while she had slept, stood up and turned his back toward her, ostensibly to check the fire but in actuality, giving her privacy to get dressed. She did so quickly, as the room was a wee bit chilly.

"My jacket's in the pile with your clothes, so wear it," he insisted as he poked the fire. "I'm warm. Don't worry about me."

"George…" she protested.

"It's an order, Captain," George growled. "Are you presentable?"

"Yes, I am, Sir," Samantha assured him.

"Good. Let's get this place cleaned up. Shake the blankets out, and then I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" She questioned.

"Work first, Surprise later."

* * *

They shook the blankets out in the small room outside of the living room. It was extremely chilly in that room, so they did so quickly. George hadn't slept the last few hours; instead he had stayed awake until an exhausted Samantha had drifted off to sleep. He had managed to extricate himself from her arms somehow without waking her and then had done what he could to get rid of any evidence of what had occurred between them. 

Then he had determined how to put his plan into motion without Samantha noticing. The wood for the fireplace would need to be monitored, and pushed into the fireplace as it was too long to fit into it, so that was the logical reason why he wouldn't be wrapped up in the hypothermia blanket. A few other odds and ends, and his hypothermia wrap had almost been completed. He just needed Samantha out of the blankets long enough to get her chilly, so she wouldn't complain about going back into the blankets.

The blankets were then put back on the mattress, and after hmming and hawwwing for a bit, he declared that she could have her surprise.

"Madam, your surprise is ready. Breakfast is served," he said with a dramatic flourish, before handing her a power bar. "I have tea brewing also."

"A power bar?" Samantha protested playfully.

"Not just any power bar, Madam, but a blueberry cheesecake power bar," Hammond informed her. "People fight over these. They don't like the strawberry cheesecake power bar, and in fact, I had to wrestle with a Marine Sergeant for this power bar that you are dismissing so uncaringly of my efforts."

Samantha laughed and she apologized. She broke the bar in half and Hammond refused it when she silently offered it to him.

"I have mine from yesterday," he explained.

"I thought you ate it," she protested as she distinctively remembered Hammond eating it. It had been a revolting sweet Carmel Chocolate mix of some sort.

"Nope. Saved it for a rainy day," George quipped.

"It's snowing, Sir," she retorted.

"Do believe you're right about that, Captain," he said with a just a smidgen of fictitious, incredulous disbelief. "Probably why I never ended up working in my true vocational love, Weather Reconnaissance."

She couldn't help but stare at Hammond, simply flabbergasted and amazed by his complete one eighty in personality.

* * *

George managed to get Samantha back into bed with only a few complaints. She was noticeably shivering, and with a few assurances that he'd wake her up in a few hours to switch his fireplace watching position aka the Wood Guard, Samantha had quickly agreed to get wrapped up in the hypothermia wrap. He had scavenged a few rocks from the fire place, heated them up and after insulating them with socks, in order to create a half dozen or so hot packs that he had placed at strategic points of her body before duct taping the entire kit and caboodle closed. 

He had even forced her to wear his wool cap, and he had ripped a hole for her mouth and nose so when he pulled the cap down over her face, she could breath through the holes.

She protested then, figuring that something was odd, but he taped her in so well, she'd never get out of the wrap unless someone cut her out.

"Sir?" Samantha protested. "I don't think you'll be warm enough."

"I'll be fine, Samantha. You don't worry about old George," he insisted. "You just go to sleep. I'll wake you when it's time for you to watch the fire."

George cuddled up next to her sleeping form, trying not to shiver too badly, as he watched the last of the wood burn. The blanket he had kept for himself had been the thinnest and most light weight of the ones they had found, and he getting so damn cold.

_**Dear God, it's George. Get her home, please. Get her home!**_

The fire soon went out, but both he and Samantha were deeply asleep and didn't notice.

* * *

George found himself walking alone down the street in what had to be military housing. The complete lack of originality, the same two houses repeated over and over again, in the same official colors, everything built with a T-square and a plumb line as everything was absolutely, positively identical, like clockwork. He didn't recognize the base, as it wasn't one where he had been stationed, so he continued walking down the street in the hopes that he'd recognize something. Some of the names on the mailboxes looked familiar, as though he had served with them at one time or another. He stopped at one mailbox and he shivered as though someone had walked over his grave. 

_**Major Charles Kowalsky.**_

Now he recognized the last names. Every single one of them was someone that he had served with who had shuffled off the mortal coil.

The next one belonged to the female Sergeant that Apophis had snakenapped.

He turned around, looked at the sky, wondered what the hell was happening, feeling as though he was about to panic when he felt someone touch his arm. To his shame, he jumped three feet into the air, easily, and he reached for his non-existent gun.

"George?" Maggie said, obviously surprised. "What are you **_doing_** here? You're not supposed to be here."

"Maggie?" he whispered as he stared at the vision of his thirty year old wife.

"Come with me," she insisted. "Your tour's not done, why are you here?"

He followed her meekly into one of the identical houses.

"George… it's ok. I want you to take your coat off, ok? You're home now, so you can take off your dress blues and get into something a little more comfortable," Maggie assured him.

He just stared at her, and then she gave him an exasperated push toward the steps.

"Upstairs, George. Go… change… I'll make something nice for lunch…." Maggie said with a smile.

"Oh…ok…" He said.

George remembered his father reading from the Bible, _"In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you…"_

He hesitantly walked toward the steps, wondering why his father had never mentioned that the mansions in the afterlife consisted of cookie cutter military housing. It was, with some honesty, after a lifetime of military housing, a bit of a disappointment. He was halfway up the steps when Maggie stuck her head into the stairway and called after him in a very sultry voice, "I've been doing a **_lot_** of reading while you've been gone, Hammond."

* * *

It was distinctly unfair that while Maggie was a beautiful and vivacious thirty year old, he looked exactly like he did the last time he had looked in the mirror. Well, not exactly, his face was heavily stubbled and he looked exhausted. 

He found some clothes that Maggie had apparently laid out for him and he switched into them. Carefully he headed downstairs, wondering what the he… **_heaven_** …. was going on.

"Ok, ok…." Maggie said to someone. She had the phone cord twisted around her finger and she had the handset cradled between her head and her shoulders. Meanwhile, she was industriously making sandwiches. "So… what am I supposed to do? Ok…. Ok…. Thanks, Michael. Yes, I know that this is a unique situation and I appreciate you taking my phone call. I know you and Rafe are very busy with other matters."

She hung up the phone and then she began to put the sandwiches on a plate.

"Come on, George, we're having a picnic outside."

George followed her meekly outside and soon he found himself sitting on an all too familiar looking blanket underneath a tree. He'd swear that it was the one that was wrapped around him in the real world. Maggie sat down next to the tree, and she soon positioned his head so it was resting in her lap.

"This is such a strange dream," he whispered.

"It's not really a dream, George. You're between here and there, right now, and you're not supposed to be. Since you're not where you're supposed to be, someone put you here," Maggie said.

"Maggie, I'm cold," he whispered. "Can't we go back into the house?"

"I know…" Maggie assured him. "Listen, we've only got a few minutes to talk. Generals Michael and Raphael got involved, and you're getting reassigned shortly. Your tour of duty isn't completed, and you haven't been furloughed. You're not supposed to be here yet, George. You're **_AWOL_**!"

The summer sky that once was so bright was getting darker and there was a brisk breeze in the air.

"I need you to listen to me. I know about you and Samantha. I'm not angry," Maggie said quickly. "We don't have much time, George. I'm not angry. I think you've finally realized what I've been trying to tell you. I never said that you couldn't love anyone else. I never told you to stop caring… Your compassion is what makes you who you are…It is your **_greatest _**strength, George."

He was so damn cold and the shivering was getting worse.

"You never read that poem at my funeral. I specifically picked it for you to read, George…" Maggie informed him. "It was to be my final words to you, my hopes for you, and you wouldn't read it at the funeral."

"I couldn't read it, I couldn't…" George protested. "I couldn't read it without breaking out in tears, Mags."

"Then I will read it to you, and you have to understand…." Maggie explained.

"_If suddenly I do not exist,  
if suddenly I no longer live,  
you shall live on._

_You do not dare,  
you do not dare to write it,  
if I die._

_You shall live on._

_For where a man has no voice,  
there shall be your voice._

_Where blacks are flogged and beaten,  
you cannot be dead.  
When your brothers go to prison  
you shall go with them._

_When victory,  
not your victory,  
but the great victory  
comes,   
even if you are dumb you must speak;  
you shall see it coming even if you are blind._

_No, I forgive you.  
If I no longer live,  
if I, beloved, your love,  
if I  
have died,  
all the leaves will fall on your breast,  
it will rain on your soul night and day,  
the snow will burn your heart,  
Your shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow,  
Your feet will want to walk to where I am sleeping,  
but  
you shall stay alive,  
because above all things I wanted you  
indomitable,  
and, my love, because you know that you are not only a man  
but all mankind." _

It was then, after she had finished the poem, the sky turned black and the wind picked up. But George didn't notice, for he was fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

We had left George and Samantha on the planet, still unable to get home. Unexpectedly (at least to the author), the two have bonded in more ways than one. But that's ok, as we went off the Cannon track a while ago.

* * *

"Now, I want to remind you of the basic first aid treatment for hypothermic patients," said the short doctor. "General Hammond and Captain Carter's lives could be saved or lost depending on your first aid skills." 

Her high heels clicked, clicked, clicked on the floor as she walked toward the front of the debriefing room.

Dr. Fraiser continued explaining to her captive audience why it was imperative that severely hypothermic patients be treated as gently as possible, as rough handling could cause the patient's hearts to go into ventricular fibrillation. Everyone was busy taking notes, except for the back row. Well, two people in the back row, as Teal'c was energetically scribbling notes as First Aid was a foreign concept to the Jaffa.

"Why is she telling us this? Isn't she coming along?" Daniel whispered to Jack O'Neill.

"Might lose her in a snow drift and we wouldn't find her until springtime," Jack quipped.

**_BAM_**!

Jack moved his hand quickly so he just missed getting his knuckles rapped by a blackboard pointer by one very short, one exceeding irate CMO of the SGC who was either annoyed by his short joke or the fact that he blowing off her refresher course. Janet Fraiser glared at Jack O'Neill. The Colonel pretended innocence, though secretly he was impressed that the short doctor had heard his quip all the way in the front of the room as he, Daniel and Teal'c were sitting in the 'cheap seats' in back.

"I would think that you'd like to pay attention, Colonel. After all, weren't **_you_** the one that took the General off world?"

That was said in a very controlled voice, but Jack knew that Fraiser had sliced and diced him verbally.

"Low blow," Daniel admitted dryly.

"There is a saying on Chulak. The lowest blow is the one that hurts the most," Teal'c said dryly.

* * *

The base shook as Davis entered the last chevron's coordinate. Jack O'Neill, having barely escaped with his fingers intact from Janet Fraiser's Hypothermia Review class, was feeling reckless and had decided to make a command performance in the Control Room the next time they tried to contact Hammond. SG1, SG3, SG9 and SG12 meanwhile were in the Gate Room, all suited up in their cold weather gear and they were all ready to tango. The teams were joined by Doctor Fraiser and her medical team who were also itching to go and even Sgt. Siler had outdone himself by creating a snow plow attachment for the FREDS. Fortunately, Teal'c, being a natural born observer of the human nature, had recognized that O'Neill was feeling both a tad bit feckless and rather reckless, and had decided to keep an eye on him. 

"I really have to find money in the budget to get them some sort of super shocker absorbers for that thing. NORAD must be freaking out," Ryan mused even as the after tremors diminished. "George had put in an emergency request in for shock absorbers, and I remember thinking, 'George, how badly can this little gadget of yours shake Cheyenne Mountain that you want fifty million dollars for shock absorbers?'. Remind me to apologize to him when he gets back."

That was said to a silent Jacob Carter, who was obsessively staring at the wormhole as though mentally willing it to work and work properly.

"Jacob, they're **_fine_**," Mike insisted.

"It's been twelve hours since we last spoke to them," Jake stated. "Yes, I know you're aware of that."

Ryan, having dealt with Jacob Carter's assorted personality quirks for far too long, did what he normally did when Jake got short tempered, he ignored it. Instead, he grabbed for the mike, keyed it and prayed for a response.

"George, this is Mike? You copy?" Ryan questioned.

No answer.

"George. Respond please."

The only noises came from the wormhole, as it flickered and ebbed like a giant cosmic wading pool.

"Sgt. Davis, I would like you to send a MALP through the wormhole, please," Ryan decided.

"Yes, sir!" Davis agreed as his fingers danced quickly over the keyboard.

Sgt. Siler was standing next to MALP and he gave a thumb's up gesture to the Control Room before the MALP slowly began rolling up the ramp and through the pool of blue. The machine disappeared from view and the two Generals turned to face the computer screen that detailed the MALP's trip through the wormhole.

Even Jack O'Neill was holding his breath, silently praying that this time; they'd get their people home.

"Jacob," Ryan asked, his voice slightly puzzled. "Did someone paint a Texas Flag on that very expensive piece of USAF equipment?"

"I believe someone might have, Sir," Jacob said blandly.

Jacob had turned the other eye when he had caught Siler painting the flag on the MALP except to comment that the flag needed a little more blue in it.

"Whoever painted it put a little too much blue in it," Jack O'Neill said after a long pause.

"Actually, I think Siler did a very good job," Mike Ryan announced, proving once again that he was clairvoyant or that there was a snitch among the members of the SGC. "Unofficially, of course, because the USAF doesn't condone nose art."

"Sir! We've got telemetry," Davis exclaimed excitedly.

Scientists, Generals, Commissioned Officers and assorted various personnel all leaned over Davis' shoulder to view the fuzzy image. It took a moment for them to comprehend the reason why the picture was so unclear.

"It's snowing," Jack said helpfully. "What a surprise!"

"There's a lot of snow on the ground," Jacob pointed out. "The FREDs should be able to handle it."

"Dr. Lee, Dr. McKay, we finally have a MALP that is more or less intact on the other end of that wormhole. Is it safe to send our people through?" Ryan questioned.

The two scientists muttered amongst themselves for a bit, not wanting to commit themselves to an answer and Jack O'Neill, not the most patient for what he considered glorified geek talk, finally lost his cool.

"General Ryan, permission to get our people off that frozen rock?" He snapped.

"I'm not sending people off world until I can be assured that we can get them back," Ryan retorted.

"Sir, with all due respect, they're not responding. For crying out loud, give me two of the FREDS; load them high with medical supplies, food and whatever we might need. We need to get there as soon as possible, because time is of the essence. I took Dr. Fraiser's refresher course on Hypothermia, so I'm your man for the job," O'Neill insisted. "Our people are turning into ice cubes out there!"

* * *

Jack O'Neill knew the need for patience. He understood why sometimes running off half-cocked and ill-informed could lead to a mistake of epic proportions. Yet as the seconds ticked by and turned into minutes even while the geeks refused to commit to a definite yay or nay about whether or not the MALP's molecular structure was currently the same as it had been before it had gone through the wormhole, he knew that Hammond and Carter were in a lot of trouble. 

Call it instinct, call him a worry wart, but he knew time was of the essence, and that McKay was dicking it away.

"Sir, I'm heading down to the Gate Room. I will be suited up and ready to go the second you give permission for me to do so," he informed Ryan. "I have two FREDS and once I get through on the other side, I'll send the MALP back. If that goes through ok, and it comes back in one piece, send all the manpower you can after me. I promised his grandkids that I would do everything I could to make sure their Papaw George got home safely, and I will not break that promise."

"I will be going also, General Ryan," Teal'c stated.

"I don't want to lose two people, Teal'c," Ryan disagreed.

"I am responsible for what occurred. It is my fault for I chose that planet thinking it would be safe."

Left unsaid was that Teal'c was planning on going through the Gate, even if General Ryan forbade him, but his silent intentions to do so were heard loud and clear.

"Very well, but before the archeologist decides he wants to play action hero, he is remaining behind," Ryan tersely snapped.

Teal'c and O'Neill then left the Control Room at a fast clip, but O'Neill still managed to quip, "I'm not telling Danny, he can't play, are you?"

"I believe Daniel Jackson would be most disappointed… if he were unable to play with the Big Dogs," Teal'c stated dryly.

"Teal'c, I've warned you about watching too much television," O'Neill joshed. "It rots your brain. I'm a prime example of what happens when you watch too much television."

"O'Neill, I will immediately curtail watching television thanks to your warning," Teal'c retorted. "Thank you, O'Neill."

"Don't….mention…." Jack paused as he realized that Teal'c had gotten him pretty good, and in fact, he had left the door wide open for the alien to zing him.

* * *

Daniel Jackson didn't consider himself a hero. 

He had allergies.

He wore glasses.

He was a geek, a loner, who had loved languages more than he had cared for his own existence until he had met a fiery woman of the dessert. She had **_blazed_** into his life and shown him that there was more to life than his books.

Love. Acceptance. Family.

Then the love of his life, the center of his existence, the woman whose his life revolved around had been kidnapped by a race of alien, intelligent mind snakes, who were now using her for their own nefarious means.

Then George Hammond had agreed to let him join the SGC.

Upon joining the SGC, he had found comrades… and yes… friends… united in his personal battle against the Goa'uld. Yes, they had their different reasons for wanting to fight the Goa'uld but they were bonded in their common goal.

Extermination of the parasitical race known as the Goa'uld.

Now… now Hammond was trapped off world, as was Samantha, a woman who had rapidly become a best friend/sister figure in his life. He couldn't bear to lose Samantha, not so soon after losing his wife.

And if anything happened to Hammond, would the next military commander of the SGC allow a civilian on his top team? From the way Ryan was acting, probably not. He'd be shuffled aside, viewed as too much of a liability to be allowed off world, and he'd be put into a small room on the one of the many levels of the SGC, trotted out for the rare occasions when they had something that they couldn't read.

Therefore when Ryan gave the ok for Jack O'Neill and Teal'c to go through the gate, Daniel decided he was going to be part of the rescue team. He managed to clamber onto a FRED as it rode past him on the ramp on its way to the wormhole, and then held onto it for dear life. Jackson and the FRED were already dematerializing through the wormhole before Ryan knew what Daniel Jackson had done.

With possibly two people injured, Jackson knew that Teal'c and O'Neill would need an additional set of hands.

* * *

It was a bumpy ride through the gate, and the FRED landed heavily on the ramp when it exited the wormhole. It was also cold enough to steal his breath away, and Daniel waited for the rest of the team to arrive. Then another FRED came through, and almost immediately O'Neill and Teal'c appeared. Unlike Daniel, the two of them had walked through the wormhole, rather than ride in style on the FRED. 

It was too good an opportunity not to razz Jack O'Neill.

"What took you guys so long?" Daniel quipped. "I've been here for hours."

"Daniel," O'Neill said.

"Jack," Daniel retorted.

"Daniel…" O'Neill repeated.

Teal'c already familiar with the Abbott and Costello routine of his fellow team members, keyed his radio in order to duly report that they were alive and that the correct number of pieces had aligned up properly.

"General Ryan, General Carter, we are through the gate," Teal'c intoned solemnly.

"Is that archeologist with you?" Ryan snapped.

"Yes, he is, General, and thankfully in one piece, Sir," O'Neill answered. "We're going to send the second MALP through to you. If it reassembles properly, you can send the rest of the personnel through. We'll go on ahead, get things situated. Please advise us if for any reason you can't send the personnel through the gate. O'Neill out."

Teal'c entered the coordinates and the MALP slowly rode up the ramp and into the wormhole before disappearing.

"Daniel, I believe that General Ryan said that you couldn't tag along with us," O'Neill quipped.

"He might have," Daniel admitted. "But I figured you might need an extra set of hands."

"Good to have you along, Danny. Let's get our people home," Jack said with a touch of approval in his voice. "It's too damn cold to be standing here chitchatting. Let's go."

They began following the FREDs through the snow, and towards the guard house.

"Hammond? Carter? Do you copy?" O'Neill called, not expecting a response, but still hoping for one.

* * *

They found Hammond and Carter in the guardhouse. The two of them were huddled on the floor, on a thin mattress, next to an empty fireplace, and O'Neill noticed immediately that it seemed almost as cold inside the building as it was outside. The stranded duo had run out of wood hours earlier, Jack estimated from how cold the room was, and the two of them had probably drifted off to sleep thinking that they'd never wake up. 

For a moment, O'Neill's heart skipped a beat when he thought that they had arrived too late for a rescue mission and that they were instead doomed to merely recover the bodies of their fallen comrades. Hammond was in the fetal position, wrapped in a light blanket. His skin was blue-tinged and his muscles were rigid. Carter, on the other hand, was wrapped up like the proverbial Christmas Present, swathed neatly in a cocoon of fabric blankets and a space blanket, duct taped closed to keep all her precious heat from escaping.

Carter was wearing a face mask, made from what appeared to be Hammond's wool cap, and she had been positioned closest to the fireplace.

_Damn it, Hammond, that's something I would have done_, O'Neill thought with a grudging sense of approval combined with a burgeoning respect for his CO who had decided that his final efforts would go toward saving not himself, but his JO. _For a desk jockey, you're pretty damn ok. It's a goddamn shame that I had to come close to killing you to realize that. _

"Careful," Daniel reminded O'Neill. "Just check his carotid pulse for a minute and make sure about his pulse."

"I took the refresher course on freezer burns, Daniel!" O'Neill reminded him, even as he put his fingers carefully on Hammond's neck, hoping to feel a pulse beneath his fingers. "How's Carter?"

"She's got a weak pulse and she's breathing," Daniel said with noticeable relief. "Hammond?"

Jack shook his head, and leaned over Hammond's still form, "Come on, you old son of a gun, I'm not doing mouth to mouth on you as bald, ugly men aren't my type. You're too damn stubborn to roll over and die. I know your type. You're not gonna kick the bucket until you kick my ass through the Gate."

Teal'c raised one eyebrow questioningly at Daniel Jackson.

"I think Jack's trying to motivate Hammond," Daniel explained. "Though I think Jack's method of motivation is closer to trying to piss him off. It just might be a little… excessive…"

"Yes!" Jack waved his hand in a victory motion after confirming two…no… three… thready beats beneath his fingers. "The old boy's ticker is still working!"

* * *

"This is Sg Niner," Jack's voice held a trace of controlled excitement. 

In the Control Room, Jacob Carter leaned forward in his chair, willing it to be good news. He didn't believe in superstition, but he was still rubbing his wedding ring for luck.

"We found our two little lost kids. They're _**both alive**_!"

Jake had to duck quickly as one of the scientist did a high five with another scientist right over his head. Filter? No, Felger and Chloe... Good God, no wonder George was losing his hair if he had to deal with civies all day!

"How are they? Can I speak to my daughter?" Jacob grabbed the mike from Davis and began questioning O'Neill.

"Your daughter is wrapped up like a Christmas Package, complete with a duct tape bow, so we're trying to carefully cut her out of it. Hammond appears to be in pretty rough shape, but we still haven't finished triaging. Doctor Fraiser and her team should be here shortly."

"I can see the guard house," said a female voice. "Be there in a minute."

* * *

She was warm. 

Wherever she was, she was **_finally_** warm, and Samantha basked in the sensation of being warm. You never knew how good it was to be… warm… until you were freezing. There was hot, moist air blowing on her face and she realized that she was wearing an oxygen mask. There was a lot of beeping though, and she tried to drift off to sleep.

So good to be warm.

And in what appeared to be a real bed.

Plus, the blankets didn't smell. If this was heaven, she would awaken to discover a George Clooney clone as her personal nurse.

But damn it, couldn't someone turn off the beeping?

"Sammy?" said a familiar voice. "Come on, open your eyes."

The voice, which sadly, was not George Clooney's, was annoyingly persistent so Samantha finally opened her eyes with an almost Herculean effort. There was a familiar looking gentleman sitting next to her hospital bed and his smile went ear to ear when he saw that she was awake. Her brain was still freezer burned, or else his wide smile was completely out of character because it took several moments for her to realize that it was **_her father_** sitting next to her.

Her father must have been really worried about her, as he looked like hell.

"Sammy?" Her father repeated. "You're with us again. You're in the hospital. You're on Earth."

She nodded once, and her father rubbed his hand on her face. It was an astonishingly tender emotion from someone whom she believed had the hardest of hearts.

"Don't say anything, ok? We were all really worried about you but Dr. Fraiser says that you should be able to go home tomorrow." Her father's voice got shaky, and then he continued. "You scared the hell out me, Sammy."

"So..rry…," she apologized.

"I don't want to lose you, especially after we just you got back on Terra Firma," Jake admitted. "Now… go back to sleep."

She swallowed once and then questioned in a soft voice, "Hammond?"

Her father's smile faded slightly before he continued.

"He's in pretty bad shape, Sammy. You were pretty cold when we got you back here, but, George… George was pretty much a human Popsicle. He's in ICU right now. They think he'll bounce back, but he's on dialysis right now. They're warming his blood up that way, as he was pretty damn cold," Jake explained. "He's got tubes everywhere, and he's not complaining about it, which isn't a good sign. He's rather cranky, unlike me. That's why the two of us get along so well, he's crankier than a bear and I'm a ray of sunshine…"

"Damn him," slurred Samantha, failing to laugh at her father's witticism. Her eyes were full of tears, and she blinked to keep the tears from falling.

"Hey… hey… Sammy, it's not your fault. George decided what he was going to do, and he's stubborn. When he makes a decision, to hell with everything else."

Jake reached for something, and he then turned to face his daughter. He held a small envelope in his hand.

"I don't know if you remember this. Before he wrapped you in the Hypothermia Wrap, he put his journal in with you."

"Supposed to make sure his daughters got that and his wedding ring," Sam whispered.

"Don't worry, they got it. He also wrote a letter to you. Do you want me to read it?" Jake questioned.

She grimaced, and her father took it for a yes.

_Oh God, please don't let it be anything too embarrassing_, Samantha mentally prayed.

"Ok, there are two notes in this envelope actually. One is in an envelope that says you're only to open it if he dies. We won't be opening that one," Jake informed her dryly. "Not now, not ever."

"Ok," Samantha whispered.

Jake read the note for a bit and then he wiped his suspiciously moist eyes.

"Damn allergies," he cursed. "Anyway, here's what George wanted you to know….

_**Captain Carter,**_

**_This was the only ethical decision, and I did it knowing full well what the consequences might be. But I can assure you that one day you'll understand… why I've done what I've done… and how I knew you'd make it out alive. _**

_**My final orders to you are as follows:**_

_**Make sure Jocelyn gets my wedding ring and my journal. **_

**_When they bury me, I want you to tell my son-in-laws to make damn sure that there's a nice spray of yellow roses for my wife's grave, because there's a yellow rose in Texas that I am going to see…_**

**_It has been my honor and my privilege to be your CO for this short amount of time. I regret that our time together couldn't have been for longer as I believe you to be a truly remarkable officer, the type of officer that a commander is fortunate if they come across once in a career, and truly blessed if they come across twice in their career._**

**_This is in fact, my final order to you. I want you to continue to stretch, to explore, to realize what awe inspiring and breathtaking potential the Stargate has for humanity and most importantly for you to comprehend utterly what a terrifying Pandora's Box we have opened by using it to explore the Galaxy. _**

_**Whatever you do, do not become blasé about the Stargate. **_

**_Respect it, and fear it for it is truly the most terrible device this world has ever seen and its terrible potential for good or for evil, is infinite and immeasurable._**

_**I want you to continue working on the Stargate Program and as a personal favor to me, I want you to stretch your brain beyond the limits of what the military would want you to use the Gate for. **_

_**Perhaps the wormhole could reach another galaxy.**_

**_Perhaps the Stargate could be used to travel in time. Time and Distance are just different forms of one another, at least that's what all the quantum theorists say, so wouldn't that be something, Captain? _**

**_You figure out how to travel in time using the Gate, and who knows, maybe we will meet again sometime._**

_**As that blond hair, blue eyed gypsy once told me my future, I will tell you yours. **_

_**Your adventures have just begun, Captain.**_

**_Now, at the end, I can assure you that I have no regrets, Captain._**

_**With sincerest respect,**_

_**George S. Hammond**_

The tears were in her eyes again, and her father took a tissue to dab her eyes dry.

"Go to sleep, kiddo, I'll be around for a while. Then you can tell me all about your adventures in outer space, Sammy."

* * *

Samantha got released the hospital early the next day, and she demanded and cajoled, even threatened to hold her breath until she turned blue, that she be allowed to see General Hammond before she left. Dr. Fraiser, pint size Napoleon, and possessor of numerous sharp needles, finally relented only after George's daughter Jocelyn, insisted that her father wanted to see Captain Carter. 

"Two minutes," Janet ordered. "NO more!"

The General rated a large private room, and she knocked before she entered the room. He gave a weak wave of his hand as an all clear, and Samantha wheeled herself into the room. Much to her amusement, he was still wearing a beard, and his hair was getting a little shaggy. Hammond grinned at her and he held out his hand.

"Getting released out of prison, I understand," he joked.

"General," Samantha said softly as she reached for his hand. "I'm **_exceedingly_** angry with you, Sir."

His smile of greeting faded, and George nodded his head.

"You should be. What I did was **_inexcusable_**…I took advantage of you…," George's voice was raspy and he coughed.

She reached for a cup of water, and carefully placed the straw in his mouth.

"No….it's not that," Samantha protested while George sipped his water. "But since you mentioned it, I'm as guilty over what happened as you are. I didn't say no, I didn't tell you to stop. Don't even think of resigning over it, George."

"Too damn old. I'm in no shape to be running around on other planets," George protested. "Let me resign, Samantha. Making love to a junior officer is **_inexcusable_**."

"You resign, I'll go to Ryan," Samantha protested.

"I'll tell him that I took advantage of you," he retorted.

"I'll tell him that I seduced you," she rejoined in a soft tone that belied her sharp words. "I'll **_demand_** that I get court martialed. I have been told repeatedly that I'm irresistible. And I'll tell them that I seduced you dozens of times during our time off world."

Hammond shook his head and laughed. His laugh turned into a hacking cough, and Samantha poured him more water before she offered it to him.

"Dozens?" George laughed. "An old man is like a Model T Ford, Samantha. He'll never believe dozens…"

Dr. Fraiser stuck her head into the room to remind Samantha that it was almost time to leave, and Samantha nodded her head to acknowledge her warning.

"You never explained that to me," Samantha admitted softly, not wanting Janet or anyone to hear this private conversation that needed to be held.

"An old lover is like a Model T Ford. It might take a few tries to get the engine turned on, and you best enjoy the ride for as long as it last, as you can't be sure how long he'll go…" George explained before coughing again.

"They think that I have a touch of pneumonia," he explained. "I'll be in for a while."

"I'm not angry with you regarding that," Samantha protested. "I'm angry that you were willing to die to ensure I got home safely. How could I face your grandkids and let them know the reason why you had died… was because of me?"

"It was my fault. My decision. My choice, "George said intently. "My command."

"And it would have been my guilt," she explained. "That I would have carried for the remainder of my life."

"Guilt is an old friend of mine, Samantha. It rides your back and saps your soul, I know, but I'm your General. I keep an eye out on my people," Hammond said softly.

"You won't be able to do that, if you retire," Samantha informed him.

He sighed, and she squeezed his hand.

"What happened will remain between the two of us," she suggested. "Don't ask, don't tell."

"Your father should horsewhip me," George protested.

"And I'd take the whipping along with you," insisted Samantha.

There and then, the two of them vowed to keep certain events that occurred between them out of the official records. And while the two of them never were lovers again, they had a close, tight camaraderie for the remainders of their lives, much to everyone's surprise.

Janet Fraiser came into the room a few minutes later, and she grabbed Samantha's wheelchair.

"It's time for the Captain to leave," Janet explained. "Colonel O'Neill wants to see you also, General. Along with Dr. Jackson and Mr. Teal'c."

Samantha jokingly mouthed, "Mr. Teal'c? _Mr. Teal'c_?"

"O'Neill," Hammond growled. "Tell him I'm _ill_. I'm in a hospital, aren't I?"

"When are we going to see PAPAW GEORGE?" a little girl's voice carried down the hallway. "You **_promised_**!"

"SHHH!" O'Neill said loudly. "We have to be **_quiet_** to sneak you in to visit your grandpa. There's this short little doctor we've got to avoid at **_all_** costs."

O'Neill entered the room, and he was carrying one of Hammond's grandchildren. Kayla was trying not to giggle but O'Neill had managed to acquire without the doubt the biggest, ugliest get well balloon he had ever seen. It was three banged up peas in a pod, inscribed with "Peas Get Well Soon".

"Uh oh! Busted!" O'Neill said with great insincerity.

Teal'c was holding Tessa, Daniel Jackson was behind him, as was Jacob Carter. His daughters and their husbands were watching the scene from the corner of the waiting room along with Siler and Davis.

"Are we having a party? And I'm wearing my PJs," Hammond protested, as he sat up. "Everybody, come on in. Don't worry, Doctor. We'll keep it short."

Kayla scrambled out of Jack's arms and raced to her grandfather's bedside. She clambered into bed and she hugged him tightly. The poor thing was so scared, so he hugged and kissed her, before Tessa claimed her kisses and hugs.

"Papaw! Are you ok?" Kayla exclaimed.

Hammond took a long look at the various people crowding his hospital room. All this time, he had concentrated on how Maggie wasn't with him, but in fact, she was, and she had never truly left. She lived on in their daughters, their husbands and in their children.

"Honey, I'm the best that I've been in years."


End file.
